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Admiral Wilson 



OUR NAVY AT WORK 



The Yankee Fleet in French Waters 
as Seen 

By 

REGINALD WRIGHT KAUFFMAN 

Accredited Correspondent with the United States Navy; 
Member of La Societe Academique d'Histoire, France 



"WE'RE READY NOW!" 



ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright 191 8 
The Bobbs- Merrill Company 



V^l. 



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K3 



PRESS or 

BRAUNWORTH a CO. 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 

BROOKLYN, N. Y. 



DEC -9 1918 

©CU5084(>2 



to 
Rear-Admiral H. B. Wilson, 

To the Members of his devoted Staff 

and 

To all the gallant officers and men of the U. S. Naval Forces 
Based on France, so largely through whose great bravery 
and unremitting hard work it has been possible to trans- 
port an army to Europe and maintain it there. 



PREFACE 

Whatever the faults of this book, there is in it no 
error, no misstatement and no omission justly 
chargeable to any lack of facilities on the part of the 
author, or to any restraint on the part of the officers 
and men by whom those facilities were supplied. 
Than that accorded me, nobody could have had a 
better opportunity for observing the wonderful 
work of our Navy along the French coast. 

The courtesy shown me began with the moment 
of my arrival at the town that serves as the head- 
quarters-port, and has not since ceased. In addition 
to personal kindnesses and verbal instructions, I was 
given a "blanket" set of credentials that were 
headed by the following letter : 

U. S. Naval Forces Operating in 
European Waters; 

U. S. S. , Flagship. 

, France ; 

17th April, 1918. 

From : Commander U. S. Naval Forces in France. 

To: All Forces. 

Subject: Accredited Correspondent. 

1. Mr. Reginald Wright Kauffman is visiting 
U. S. Naval Bases on the coast of France in the 
capacity of an accredited correspondent. The Com- 
mander U. S. Naval Forces in France desires that he 
be given every opportunity for acquiring information 
for publication. 

(Signed) J. Halligan, Jr., 

Chief of Staff. 



PREFACE 

That brief missive opened every door — or ought 
I to say "every porthole" ? It was sufficient to take 
me to sea in troopship-convoying destroyers and 
submarine-hunting converted-yachts and up in the 
air in observation-balloons and hydroaeroplanes. It, 
and the good will that preceded and followed it, 
secured me opportunities to live with, and work 
with, for months together, officers of every grade 
and men of every rating, and there was almost no re- 
striction put upon what I cared to report thereof. 

"The only thing that you may not write about,*' 
said Admiral Wilson, in a conversation elsewhere 
referred to, "are dates of sailing and the names of 
ships in active service. Don't hesitate to find fault 
if you feel so moved. The Navy has nothing to 
hide, and if there is anything wrong about it, we 
want it known." 

"If you write with discretion and ordinary com- 
mon sense," said the chief base-censor to me, "I shall 
have nothing to delete." 

Such words as these, and the scope of the facili- 
ties accorded, were not only welcome ; they were also 
surprising. I found that a journalist working with 
the Navy was in the position of a guest of a gentle- 
man in that gentleman's house. 

It will be seen, therefore, that all the faults of this 
book are mine alone. It is true that the chapters on 
the office-work, the destroyers and the "Suicide 



PREFACE 

Fleet" were written abroad and censored — or, 
rather, passed uncensored — over there. Much of the 
rest of the volume was, however, written after my 
return home; in that portion I have tried to con- 
form — and I am assured that I have succeeded — 
with the Navy's censorship-rules, a necessary and in 
almost every particular a reasonable body of pre- 
cept ; but it is possible that, although the entire text 
has since been "passed" by the departmental censor 
at Washington as free from any matter which might 
be dangerous in enemy-hands, I may have been lat- 
terly guilty of some purely technical slips that the 
Navy Department had not the time to correct, but 
that Commander Tisdale, the base-censor in France, 
would, in our personal interviews, have had oppor- 
tunity to call to my attention. It is for these, if they 
exist, that I beg indulgence. 

Of my gratitude to the American Naval Forces 
based on France, and of my admiration for them, 
this book is an Imperfect expression; so little has 
been written of them that three-quarters of America 
is ignorant of their work; and yet, but for them — 
and for the similar duties performed in lesser de- 
gree by their brothers convoying such of our troops 
as go to Europe by way of England — we could not, 
to-day, have or maintain an army on the western 
front. Another debt of thanks that I hasten to 
acknowledge is one for permission to rewrite and 



PREFACE 

republish some parts of this sketch that previously 
appeared in the London Spectator and other maga- 
zines — ^and in a syndicate of newspapers that I rep- 
resented during a part of the present war — a syndi- 
cate formed iDy the Philadelphia North American 
and from time to time including, in addition to that 
journal, the Baltimore Sun, the Boston Post, the 
Chicago Herald, the Los Angeles Times, the New 
York World, the Pittsburgh Dispatch, the St. Louis 
Globe-Democrat and the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. 

R. W. K. 

Columbia, Pennsylvania. 
3d October, 1918. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

PART ONE 

DICING WITH DEATH 

I Sailing With the Suicide Fleet .... 1 

II The College Kids — and Their Shipmates . 17 

III Perils of the Deep 41 

part two 
ROMANCE ASHORE 

IV The Spider in His Web 59 

V The Men Behind the Ships 69 

VI Adventure by Wireless 80 

PART THREE 

SCOTCHING THE SUBMARINE 

VII In the Name of the Lord I Will Destroy Them 94 

VIII On Board a- Destroyer 106 

IX The Truth About the Submarine .... 122 

PART four 
TAKING CHANCES 

X Up in the Air 134 

XI Two Hard Jobs 150 

1 : The Observation-Balloons 
2: Shut-Ins 
XII The Blow-Up Men and a Mend-Up Mother . 168 

XIII Marines Ashore 182 

XIV Base Hospital 203 

PART FIVE 

ADMIRALS ALL 

XV Fire! 224 

XVI The Pluckiest Man Alive 234 

XVII The Soul of the Sailor 243 



NoWy Mr. Wall of Wall St., he built himself a yacht, 
And he built that yacht for comfort and for speed; 
He didn't mean that it should go 
Beyond a hundred miles or so; 
He wanted something made for show, 
Where he could drink and feed. 

Then Uncle Satn'l went to war and hadn't any boats, 
Or not enough to guard the stormy green, 

And so he said to Mr. Wall: 

'Til take your six-feet-over-all 

And set it out to get the call 
Upon the submarine.'* 

"A cruising- fighter? Never!" (The experts chorused 
that.) 
*^ She'll sink before she's half-way out to France;" 
But Sam cut out her bathtubs white, 
He painted her a perfect fright 
And loaded her zvith dynamite: 
Says he: 'Til take a chance." 

''Good night!" said Wall of Wall St.; the experts said 
it, too; 
But Uncle Sam was sot and sibylline; 
His little plan, it zmrn't a josh, 
Wall's boat's as dry's a mackintosh; 
She fights, b'gum; what's more, b'gosh, 
She gits the submarine! 

— Easter-Eggs. 



OUR NAVY AT WORK 

PART ONE 
Dicing With Death 

CHAPTER I 

SAILING WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 

THERE was a broad streak of moonlight 
splashed across a leaden sea, and, all around 
that vast ampitheatre, circular walls of ebony. 
Nothing but the gently rippling waves cut by a sin- 
gle road: the whole world seemed as it must have 
been when, before man, the light of the night first 
came upon the darkness that brooded over the face 
of the waters. 

Slowly a black shape lumbered into the illum- 
inated track, moving with the clumsiness of an ante- 
diluvian monster. A prow poked forward, a fun- 
nel followed : the whole hull of a merchant steamer 
was there. 

Then something else appeared — a mere stick 
dancing upright in the little waves with the monster 
between it and the moon. Appeared and disap- 
peared and appeared again. 

1 



2 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

The monster gave a frightened scream; the 
scream of a jangled bell. It tried to turn away and 
run; it was in mortal terror of that fragile stick 
among the waves. The stick danced with a glee de- 
moniac : it seemed to laugh at the monster. 

What followed, followed swifter than the telHng; 
it happened in exactly thirty seconds. A tiny boat 
— a boat not one-fifth the size of the terrified mon- 
ster; a boat grotesquely painted like a harlequin — 
pounced out of the darkness, blazed twice from fore 
and aft at the stick, twisted as a coin on edge twists 
when flicked by a human finger, jumped directly 
over the stick as the stick dove below the water; 
passed over the spot where the stick had been — and 
something glinted from the stem of the little boat, 
and, just as she raced clear, there came a detonation 
that shook the rescued monster as a rat is shaken by 
a terrier, and churned the silver sea into hissing 
suds. 

Bubbles came up. A thick scum of oil appeared 
where the demon stick had danced. But the stick 
did not come up again. 

"The United States Patrol Squadron Based on 
the Fleet in European Waters" — the Easter Egg 
Flotilla — the Suicide Club — had saved another 
cargo-ship and sunk another German submarine. 

That is one example, and one only, of the sort of 
work that has been done by one division of our Navy 
of which the American public has had little news : 
the originally christened "Mosquito Fleet Abroad," 



WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 3 

wherewith I early had the privilege of sailing. 
Every "gob" — that is to say, every sailor — knew 
this fleet and wondered at its work — and nobody 
else was, for a long time, permitted to know; yet 
there is not a pilot along the French coast but will 
tell you that, within six months after the arrival of 
the Mosquito Flotilla, the S. O. S. calls were re- 
duced by more than half. 

Where these sea-wasps operated, how their ex- 
plosives were composed and how discharged, when 
and by what means they received news of the sub- 
marines' movements — these are matters that, if 
published, might give aid to the enemy. But enough 
may be told to make clear the courageous work of 
a branch of the service that deserves as much pub- 
licity and praise as has been given to soldiers, tanks 
and aeroplanes. 

The job of the Suicide Club was to convoy trans- 
ports and supply-ships through the dangerous areas, 
and to chase that craft which makes its reputation 
by blows below the belt ; but, though they had a two- 
fold duty, they faced, constantly, dangers manifold. 
Yellow dirigibles might hover above them and their 
wards for a few miles of their course or all of it, 
hydroaeroplanes and tug-towed observation-balloons 
might lend the aid that regulations allowed: peril 
was unremitting; their orders were to hunt peril. 
Was a given field reported swept of mines? The 
"eggs" that a Boche mine-layer *'lays" can be placed 
deep in the seas and governed, by soluble caps, to 



4 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

rise twenty- four hours later. Was this course or 
that known to be clear of submarines? Then it was 
in the other, the infested course, that the Suicide 
Club was most required. 

There is nothing heroic in their appearance ; there 
is everything grotesque. To obtain the lowest visi- 
bility, they are painted hysterically, as if by some 
futurist in eternity. Perhaps the largest is of seven 
hundred tons gross, measures one hundred and 
thirty feet on the water and draws but thirteen feet. 
Certainly most of them were once the swiftest and 
most seaworthy pleasure yachts in America, in 
W'hich refrigerating-plants have given place to am- 
munition-rooms and ladies' boudoirs to sleeping 
quarters of sooty men. 

It was to such a boat that I was invited, not one 
of the Poga-boats, otherwise known as "Spit-kids" 
— which is Navy for the happily obsolete cuspidor — 
but to quite the smallest vessel in which it has even 
been my fortune to sail the high seas — yet we car- 
ried, or crowded, seventy men. Moreover, in rough 
weather we had a roll of forty-seven degrees, and 
if you don't believe it, you should come aboard and 
watch the inclinometre. 

"Four-Stripes" (it is thus irreverently, but no less 
loyally, that the crew, with an eye to his insignia, 
speak of their Captain, just as they call a lieutenant- 
commander "Two-and-a-Half," and a junior lieu- 
tenant "Dot - and - Carry - One") — Four - Stripes 
showed all that was to be shown, from the "pills" 



WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 5 

with which the submerged submarine is treated — 
pills known by the initial letters of their component 
explosives — to the bridge, whereof I was given the 
freedom. He told me of torpedoed steamers' boats 
with dead men in them — not always dead from expo- 
sure; of many men in life-preservers picked up after 
almost incredible hours in the water; but he spoke 
only under compulsion of his own experiences, and 
he mentioned with a smile the reason for isolating 
some rescued sailors from his crew : 

''They weren't very clean men," he explained. 
"They were covered with what our boys call shirt- 
squirrels." 

The chief quartermaster approached the navi- 
gator : 

'Twelve o'clock, sir, and the chronometre is 
wound." He didn't say "the chronometre is round," 
as the traditional green man does. 

The announcement was repeated to the Captain. 
"Make it so," said he. 

"Sound eight bells," said the navigating officer 
to the chief quartermaster. 

One of the forecastle men came up to me: 

"Mess-gear set, sir. Will you take chow with us, 
sir?" 

I took it, and I have rarely eaten a better cooked 
meal, or a more enlightening one. We fed in a dark 
hole among updrawn canvas bunks ; when anything 
went wrong, it was "pardon me," and there was 
some discussion of the technical veracity of Kip- 



6 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

ling's sea-verse; but the immediate vocabulary was 
entirely local. Can you, gentle reader, translate 
'Tut a fair wind behind the lighthouse?" I can — 
now; it means "pass the salt-cellar." And, though 
you may understand ''spuds" and guess that "red 
lead" is catsup, which it hugely resembles, and that 
"shoestrings" are — or is — spaghetti, I venture to 
doubt that your perspicacity would divine that 
"slumgullion" is beef stew; "railroad hash," a mix- 
ture of "spuds" and large lumps of beef; "canned 
Bill," canned corned beef; "Mulligan," shredded 
Bill and onions, and that "fish-eyes" are tapioca 
pudding. 

You think that these men spun wild yarns of ad- 
venture for my credulous ears? They didn't; they 
are living adventure — what they talked about was 
coaling ship. 

"On a boat like this," said one of them, "every 
man's a 'swipe' " — by which he meant a coal-passer 
— "for we have to coal by hand. We do it each time 
we come into port. Passing coal! Some of us 
were more used to selling bonds, but we're all on to 
the job by now. We started in the first day aboard. 
The barges come up, one on each side, and on each 
side there are four men shovelling into the baskets, 
four men passing the baskets overhead to the deck 
— you have to heave them three feet above your 
head — two passing on deck and two dumping; 
twenty- four in all. We coaled from 7 :30 a. m. to 
lip. M. one hundred and seven tons, and we did it 



WITH THE SUICIDE FLBET 7 

at an average rate of two hundred baskets in nine 
minutes, too. Get on to my eyes ; don't I look like 
a movie-idol ?'* 

I had noticed this before: at the lids* edge, at the 
lashes' roots, each man's eyes were delicately 
blacked as if by a makeup-pencil. It was the resid- 
ium of coal that none can remove. 

"When you're all in from passing coal, and black 
from hair to toenails, you quit and swab-up the 
decks ; Field-day, we call it, scrubbing-up ships and 
clothes ; 'piping down' ; I had some sympathy for 
the Dutchman before I got on this job, but after 
coaling ship for the first day, they'd got my an- 
gora; it was *Kill the kaiser' for me." 

Who are these boys? The strangest of mixtures. 
Most of them were bred to the sea, but though all 
are good sailors now, some, at the start, were ama- 
teur yachtsmen, and one or two didn't know, as they 
put it, "which the sharp end of the ship was." Eighty 
per cent, of our crew were old hands, but we had a 
Philadelphia policeman and a Texan ranger: our 
first boatswain's mate had his sheepskin from Cor- 
nell ; there was a Lehigh senior in the forecastle and 
a Harvard postgraduate assisting in the radio-room. 

"She has a good roll," I sputtered to one of the 
men on watch as I "went up topside," which is to 
say, as I clambered to the bridge. 

"Yes, sir," was that common seaman's answer. 
"She always had that reputation as a yacht. My 
parents told me so : they used to cruise in her." 



8 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

A moment later, below me, a petty officer was 
shouting to a grimy gob : 

"Hey " (and the tars name was that of one of 

America's best-known yachtsmen) ; **that you with 
them dirty shoes muddying up this deck ? Go below 
an' take 'em off !" He turned to me : *'You see, the 
Black Gang — that's the stokers an' men that works 
around the ketdes, the engines, I mean — they comes 
up for a breath o' air in their 'steamin'-shoes,' the 
shoes they wear at work, an' they're all lousy with 
oil an' coal." 

"Bathing in a bucket !" I heard that yachtsman re- 
mark : "Two quarts of water twice a day ! I'll never 
get used to 5 :30 in the morning and cold water on 
my feet." But he laughed as he said it, and there 
wasn't a more able worker aboard. 

Another hand put it to me in this fashion : 

"So many days afloat, and so many in port, while 
another section of the fleet's at sea; that's the rule 
here, and when you're at sea with these boats, you're 
on the job every minute. It's 'Merry Christmas' 
get busy,' and 'Knock off work— -and carry pig-iron.' 
All the time, if there's nothing else to do, you can 
'break out' — I mean you can get — a pot of red lead 
and paint a protecting coat of it over some of the 
ironwork. When we're in harbour, we have our 
Rope- Yarn Sunday, which is what we call our mid- 
week half -holiday; but, except for liberty-parties 
ashore, that's about our limit. Afloat, the limit of 
work is the limit of endurance ; but that's what we're 




The bridge of one of the suicide fleet 



.A-^m ^ * ^ " ! ' r 




WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 9 

here for, and even if we don't get any brass bands 
and cheering crowds in this service, we're not kick- 
ing/' 

"Rise and shine," "Show a leg," "Up all ham- 
mocks," "Heave out and lash to," "Grab a sock" — 
these are all Suicide Fleet slang for what the soldiers 
call reveille ; but reveille does not begin the mosquito- 
man's day, because the day of the Mosquito Flotilla 
is continuous. Once in the schedule's cycle, a man is 
in the "Admiral's Watch" — passing an entire night 
abed — but that luxury is inevitably balanced by the 
"Admiral's Watch with the Belly Out," which is the 
watch that runs from midnight until four. 

You are convoying merchantmen and transports, 
and these ply on forever; you are chasing subma- 
rines, and the submarine is always at his task ; there- 
fore, your work is endless, and endless the strain of 
it. In every weather, bridge and decks are lined 
with lookouts, day and night ; night and day the gun 
crews stand to their guns, and from sun to sun the 
stokers shovel and the "greasers" oil; and the long 
monotony is a monotony of which every slow mo- 
ment may well be your last. You are there to watch 
and rescue; there is none that will watch or rescue 
you. 

Scouring the horizon with aching eyes, while the 
sickening deck heaves under them, while the sun 
blisters or the icy rain cuts at their faces and eats 
through sou'wester, sheepskin- jacket and hip-boots 
— looking, looking, always looking — seated in the 



10 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

close radio-room with the tumult of clashing calls 
pricking at eardrums and stabbing brain-centres — 
listening, listening, always listening — penned in the 
stinking sweat and heat of the clanging, crowded 
fire-room, where the air is so full of dust that it 
passes to the lungs in gulps and lumps — with strain- 
ing naked back tossing in coal — always feeding the 
never-surfeited fires, always knowing that, at the 
next toss, the ocean's top may descend and crush 
them under tons of water: these are the men of the 
Suicide Fleet. At sea, they never sleep with their 
clothes off, never work but with their life-preservers 
bulkily on. Lonely, determined, unpraised, unknown 
— and then a few days in an alien port, where the 
Y. M. C. A. was their first hope of social salvation; 
that registers their emotional experience. 

'The minute they get ashore, their one object 
seems to be to buy everything in sight," an Association 
worker told me. "They all want to get rid of their 
'bunker-plates' (the French five and ten centime 
pieces), and they're spoiling the town's children by 
tossing these coppers away. Many of them know 
the French language, which is complex ; none knows 
the French money, which is simplicity itself." 

One of them on our boat has let me read and make 
extracts from his diary — they have the lonely man's 
passion for keeping a journal. "You won't find 
anything in it," he said; but some things I found 
that, originally set down in utter unconsciousness 
of their dramatic values, seem to me to indicate bet- 



WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 11 

ter than anything any outsider could say the spirit 
of the service. I quote tliem now : 

"April 5th. — President Wilson issued a proclama- 
tion calling for volunteers for the army and navy. 
I guess I ought to go. . . . 

"May 5th. — Some of our fellows are quitting col- 
lege to go to the officers' training camps, but I feel 
as if it would be better to get in right away, even if 
I do have to go as an enlisted man. . . . 

"May 18th.— Biff, 'K' and I came from Phila- 
delphia to New York to enlist in the Mosquito Fleet, 
which is to convoy boats and chase subs. Biff was 
the only one to pass the physical exam., and after 
being rejected, I went back on the afternoon train. 

"June 25th. — I came here (New York) to have 
an operation so as to be eligible for service. . . ." 

Another date, at sea: "The engine-room force, 
with w^hich I am quartered amidships, is a very mot- 
ley crowd. What most of them lack in real tough- 
ness they try to make up in conversation : the really 
tough ones are the less objectionable, as is usually 
the case, but they're all made of the right stuff. We 
had 'abandon ship' drill to-day : I'm stationed on the 
bridge and in the last boat to go, so if we do get 
smashed, I'll be pretty sure to have a chance to see 
all that happens." 

Another : "Now I know what real fog-banks are. 
This morning, when I got up at 3 :30 to take the 4-8 
watch, w^e couldn't see fifty feet ahead of us and 
were in a driving rain. I got into trouble right off 



12 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

the bat. We had been ordered by the flagship to 
take 'dipsey' soundings every thirty minutes. At 
4:15, I got ready to take one by the Lord Kelvin 
machine, with B — and G — helping. I let the lead 
go over the side and told B — to pay out the line 
easily. He promptly let go the handle, and the 
whole thing (400 fathoms) went overboard before 
we could check it. We were nearly an hour getting 
it in, and the wire nearly cut my hands to pieces. 

K sighted a German sub this p. m., which 

turned out to be a whale." 

Another: ''Yesterday Harold R , in the 

radio-room, intercepted an S. O. S. signal from some 
vessel that gave its name in code, and nothing more. 
As she didn't send her position, we couldn't do any- 
thing. This morning, we passed bits of wreckage 
and four empty life-preservers." 

Three entries follow : *'Some storm ! Wind 
about 100 miles an hour. Maybe she doesn't roll! 
Eating is surely a problem. The dishes will not stay 
on the table, and most of the time is spent dodging 
cups of coffee. It is an interesting game to divert 
food and drink down one's neck inside instead of 
out, and eternal vigilance is the price of a stomach- 
ful instead of a lapful. . . . 

"All but six of the crew have been sick. For 
three days we have had our meals standing up, 
hanging on by one hand to a stanchion or post and 
to a plate of sandwiches with the other. Tables and 
benches are useless. . . , 



WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 13 

"The attitude of the boys is peculiar. All through 
the stress and strain of the storm and the uncer- 
tainty of our weathering it, the talk was not about 
the storm, or even submarines, but about food.'* 

In port: "The came in to-day. They 

picked up seventeen survivors of a torpedoed ship 
and passed a small boat with four corpses in the 
bottom. . . . One of my friends is in trouble: 
he wrote home to his girl and home to his dad, and 
now comes a letter from his girl saying she got the 
letter meant for his dad, and what his dad will say, 
God only knows. That's one of the troubles with 
having to post your letters unsealed for censorship. 
If the censor's too tired, he may put them back in 
the wrong envelopes, and maybe he'll do it anyway 
just for a joke. 

"Another friend has dinner regularly on shore 
with a French family — two girls and mother. He 
can't speak a word of French, and they can only 
muster 'Good luck' when the wine is negotiated, and 
'Good night' when adieus are said. The father and 
two brothers have been killed in the war, and these 
people are most grateful to all the Americans that 
are coming to help win it." 

Again : "Returning from liberty, there were too 
many in our whaleboat, so about eight or nine of 
the men manned the dory. Just past the chateau, a 
French tug ran the dory down and smashed it. Two 
of our men, Olkin and Babb, couldn't swim, but 
Casey got 'Oil Can' and Fass got Babb." ... 



14 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

At sea again : "Nothing exciting to-day to lessen 
the monotonous strain of being constantly on the 
alert. One has to notice the smallest things in the 
water and report them immediately to the bridge, 
especially toward dark and dawn, when the subs 
are most active. Birds have a habit of clustering 
around a periscope, and sharks often follow Fritz, 
looking for grub, so everything one sees on the 
surface must be mentioned at once." 

The night of the day on which I read that diary 
was drawing to a close. We had seen into safety 
the "one-lunger" — the single-funneled — tramp, 
which was our particular care, and w^atched it limp 
to the haven where it would be. ("These days," said 
Four-Stripes, "they're putting every cripple in the 
ocean if it can go only on crutches.") Then we 
turned about and w^orked out of sight of land. Soon 
a faint gray-pink would flush the east, but now, even 
from the bridge on which I was standing, there was 
visible only the leaden sea, splashed by a broad 
streak of moonlight, against which, as w^e made our 
way toward it through the darkness, our forward 
spars and rigging swayed in silhouette. 

"Have we any chance of picking up a sub?" I 
wondered. 

Four-Stripes explained that it w^asn't so much a 
case of picking up as running down; when we heard 
of a submarine, we must race toward it, and when 
we sighted it, we must pounce upon the spot where 
it submerged. 



WITH THE SUICIDE FLEET 15 

"But I believe they have orders to run at sight of 
us," he said. "You see, we're so small and so light- 
draft as to be a poor mark, and they don't like v/hat 
they call our S^asser boom-booms.' " There were 
unpublishable reasons why, just there and then, it 
was a little difficult to get distress calls. *'But there 
are three submarines operating somewhere near 
here," said Four-Stripes, ''and of course we ofhcers 
are just as anxious as the men to fill our bag with 
them." 

''What's the call?" I asked, "the warning — that 
you get when one's reported?" 

"That's no secret and no code; the subs know it 
as well as we do : 'Alio, 'Alio, 'Alio — and then the 
location in plain figures." 

A speaking-tube beside him uttered a faint twit- 
ter. He bent to it. 

"That was the radio-room talking then," said 
Four-Stripes, as he raised his face to me. 

He pulled a signal lever; he issued quiet orders. 
Our tiny boat spun about in the water ; men darted 
silently out of hatches until the deck was alive 
with them, each at his prescribed position. The 
ship plunged upon a new tack; from prow to stern 
the water boiled beside us. 

"What was it," I ventured, "that the radio-room 
had to report?" 

"Three 'Alios and a location," said Four-Stripes. 
"We're racing for that location now." 



They coal us in Latin, they S7vab up in Greek, 
They're gun'ale-deep hook-learned, the guys! 

You can't understand half the language they speak, 
They've tortoise-shell specks on their eyes; 

But, once up against it, they surely make good, 
An' I'd hack the hull lot anyzvhere: 

In a squall or a scrap, he it well understood. 
Them kids out o' college is there! 

— College Kids. 



CHAPTER II 

THE COLLEGE KIDS AND THEIR SHIPMATES 

I HAVE said that the personnel of the Suicide 
Fleet was composed of all sorts of men. That 
is true, but to a great extent it was composed of 
men, young men or men above the draft age, who 
might easily have had a higher rank in one 
branch or other of the service. They might, for in- 
stance, have waited and gone to the officers' train- 
ing camps that were everywhere to open; instead, 
however, they enlisted as common seamen, and now 
they are so serving while hundreds of their friends 
are coming over with commissions in the Army. 

There is Vincent Astor, serving as ensign on what 
was once his own yacht. There is a lad from Ten- 
nessee, who, writing his first letter home and de- 
scribing the ocean to his inland family, said that it 
was "just the same color as Barlowe's Creek, but 
wider.'* There is young Farwell, now, if you please, 
deservedly a lieutenant-commander, once sent home 
from Annapolis because his sight was too poor, and 
then giving up a newly-acquired law-practise in or- 
der to take war-service on a patrol-ship. I know a 
promising architect, a Beaux Arts graduate, whom 
I discovered repainting the water-worn side of the 
vessel on which he was a member of the Black 

17 



18 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Gang; and of a Harvard senior I have heard a vet- 
eran say: 

"See that stoop-shouldered fellow over there by 
the gun?— He can't be dragged more than twenty 
feet away from it. Well, he used to be the best 
mathematician in his college class. He wasn't 
aboard here a week before we saw that we'd never 
make a sailorman of him, not in a thousand years; 
but it took us less than the week to see that he did 
have in him the makings of a perfect pointer for 
the gun-crew. You know what it is to shoot at un- 
known range. Initial range, one, five, double O — 
fifteen hundred yards, you understand; scale five-six 
— deflection. Then you fire and make a correction, 
basing your work on your own speed and the sub's. 
Well, anyway, that fellow never has to make a cor- 
rection. He's a born pointer." 

One afternoon when we had just come Into har- 
bour, and when, all about us, were capering from 
my first cruise with the Suicide Club, our crazily- 
colored sisters of that Easter Egg patrol, the quar- 
termaster sauntered up and leaned beside me against 
the starboard rail. 

"We've got some college men aboard," he said. 
"Of course, they'd all had yachting experience when 
they answered the President's call for volunteers, 
but some our bred-to-the-servlce fellows were in- 
clined to laugh at until a little thing happened on the 
way over. Now when there's a hard thing to be 
done, we know the college kids can do it. 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 19 

*Three days out of the port we were making, a 
fire started in our port coal-bunkers. Water causes 
such fires, you know; somebody'd left the hatches 
off, and there'd been a shower — away at the bottom 
of that pile, the coal was white hot and going strong, 
and we seventy-two hard hours from shore. We 
didn't dare put more water on the thing, but we got 
up the steam hose, and at least kept it from gaining 
for a day. 

*'I had the midnight to 4 a. m. watch on the 
bridge. I was there when, at 2 :30, the starboard 
bunker blew out, showing the fire had crossed the 
ship. We couldn't wait for steam that time; we 
played a good old water hose, but inside of an hour 
we had three explosions over on our port side — un- 
less we used desperate methods that whole part of 
the tub would go. The Captain waited as long as he 
dared, and then — ^just after breakfast — called for 
volunteers. It was no case for orders : what we had 
to have was men that would go right down into that 
furnace bulging with fatal gas — fellows that'd walk 
straight into those lungs of death and shovel away 
the top coal so as to uncover the burning core. That 
was the only way to save the ship. 

"Well, sir, the first fellows to volunteer were the 
college kids, and the Captain gave them the job. 

*They jumped into that hell in squads of four 
men and a petty officer for each bunker. And 
shovel ? You ought to 've seen them ! Each squad 
was to be down three minutes at a time, and the 



20 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

men were gassed like miners. In the first three min- 
utes, squad followed squad, because eleven of the 
kids were overcome and carried out, one by one, on 
the backs of the others. The doctor stood on deck 
with the pulmotor and pumped them through; but 
a lot of them were caught out of their bunks trying 
to sneak back and fight the gas again. It was the 
toughest job I've ever seen at sea, but those boys 
did it; they conquered the fire and saved the ship. 

"Since then you don't hear much against the col- 
lege kids in the Suicide Flotilla.'* 

I looked at the quartermaster hard. Somehow, in 
spite of observable efforts, he had not talked pre- 
cisely like a man that got his first education at sea. 

"How long have you been in the Navy?" I asked. 

He shifted an uneasy foot, 

"Third enlistment," he answered. 

I shot a bow at a venture : "What's your college ?" 

"Princeton," he said. " 'Ninety- four," he added, 
and then, with an almost boyish blush : "But it was 
these kids I was talking about. Don't mention the 
fact that I'm a college man to anybody aboard. I 
don't want any one to think I'm putting on side." 

That quartermaster's little ship has had its full 
share of adventure. One morning, she picked up 
three small boats with fifty-nine men in them. One- 
half of these men were from a ship that had been tor- 
pedoed a day earlier. They got away and were res- 
cued by a passing steamer, and they had not been 
aboard it twelve hours before it also was torpedoed. 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 21 

I asked our Four-Stripes about the treatment of 
rescued men — he had been telHng me of his rescue 
of some that had been seventy-two hours in their 
open boats, and how some of these, having been 
caught when in the shower-bath, were clad in just 
about nothing at all. 

"We get them into the drumroom and lay them 
there above the boilers," he told me, "generally with 
their teeth chattering like a ship with loose plates in 
a storm. Whenever we sight life-boats, the com- 
missary-vSteward starts supplies of soup and coffee. 
Clothes ? Well, my crew generally offers its clothes 
until those of the rescued men are dry, and, as the 
crew's clothes are the better, Fve known instances 
where the rescued men forgot to change back to 
their own slops before going ashore. The living men 
are an easy enough proposition, but it always seems 
tough to have to race past a boat full of dead men 
and not be able to stop and give them decent burial." 

Convoying, it seems, presents troubles peculiarly 
its own, especially in time of attack, when the flo- 
tilla's greatest difficulty is to prevent hitting a clumsy 
or frightened ward. "In our last brush," said the 
Captain, "we were convoying an American merchant- 
man, and she kept her wits about her. We were a 
bit astern of her at 3 a. m. when a submarine came 
up between us. Nine merchant skippers out of ten 
would have gone wrong, but this American swung 
his boat to starboard, and so we went to port and 
brought both our guns into play." 



22 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"And did you get the sub?" 

Four-Stripes smiled. 

"Perhaps," he answered. 

Once a submarine, driven from behind a ship 
bringing up the rear of a convoyed column, came up 
a trifle ahead and blew out the entire bow of her 
victim. To give warning and to call for help up to 
the last minute, the whistle cords of these boats are 
now made with a loop that may be instantly attached 
to a hook in the nearest wall. Thus this battered 
hulk's whistle was set to blowing at the moment of 
the explosion, and in only one minute and forty 
seconds, she went down, screeching like a gored le- 
viathan, imtil the inrushing waters strangled her. 
It was a sound that no hearer is likely soon to for- 
get, and that the rescued sixteen of the crew of 
double that number will be sure to remember for- 
ever. 

One time the Emmeltne, that armed yacht on 
which I was first a guest, had in its care a merchant- 
man with new engines that he could not slow down 
to the speed of the other boats in the ocean caravan. 
He puzzled our captain by his strange zigzagging, 
and between 3 and 3 :30 a. m. crossed our boat's bow 
at least four times. A dangerous channel was at 
hand. 

"If he keeps on, he'll go on the L~t — reefs," said 
Four-Stripes. "Send him blinkers." 

The winking-signal was given, but apparently the 



1^.^. 




m 




Commander of a coast-patrol ship. An American type 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 23 

merchantman couldn't read it. He piled up his 
thirty-one hundred tons of coal on that reef. The 
little guardian stood by, and the crew of twenty- 
nine was rescued. 

Often attacks from submarines are invited by 
sheer wrong-headedness on the part of the ward; 
and one instance of this sort that I know of was 
furnished, in the case, I regret to say, of an Amer- 
ican ship. With the descent of darkness she dis- 
played, to Four-Stripes* horror, a stern-light that 
could be seen for twenty miles. 

He signaled : **Dim that stern-light." 

She replied : "It's only what we always carry." 

Four-Stripes repeated his order. The convoyed 
ship tried to argue. 

"If you don't dim that stem-light," signaled Four- 
Stripes, "I'll blow it off you." 

That is the sort of man that is a captain in the 
Suicide Fleet. Is it any wonder that out of the first 
two hundred and fifty ships consigned to his care, he 
lost only three ? 

Such officers command more than their boati: 
they command the respect of their men, and their 
men's affection. I make this typical extract from a 
typical letter; it was not written by one of the "Col- 
lege Kids," but none of them could have shown a 
finer loyalty : 

". . . . The Wanderer is a little old yacht. I 
think it is the oldest in the service. Captain Wil- 



24 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

son. He is a regular and an Annapolis man. A lit- 
tle quiet absolutely unostentatious person, but the 
personification of energy. 

"He has done the most extraordinary things. He 
has been in every single mixup. He has seen lots 
of submarines. He has answered radio calls from 
all over. 

"He is an entire surprise to the French by his up- 
to-date methods of convoying ships into harbour in 

the fog. They had four days of fog at L in 

which he stationed ships with lights at each buoy so 
that the other ships could see the course at night and 
thereby saved the congestion of a hundred ships. 
Concerning which the French commander of the 
port told an American officer passing through that 
it had never been done before. 

"One time they were out in the English Channel 
and they got an SOS from a ship which sent out 
word it was being shelled by a submarine on the sur- 
face alongside. Captain Wilson, though six hours 
away when he picked up the call, framed a mes- 
sage in English saying American cruiser coming im- 
mediately, stand by your ship. The submarine sank 
at once and left the ship and the men who had taken 
to their boats returned, though the little Wanderer 
did not appear until the next day. 

"When one of the Naval Engineers was asked by 
Captain Wilson for a Depth Charge gun on the 
stern of the Wanderer, the engineer said, ^Fm 
afraid that your stern is not strong enough to stand 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 25 

the shock of the discharge.' Captain Wilson said, 
'If we blow off our stern, we'll bring the bow in, 
and then they'll give us a better ship.' 

"There are two German subs operating regularly 
around here. The boys call them 'Armen Archie' 
and Tenmarch Pete.' The Harry Luckenhack was 
sunk by one of them. Captain Wilson, regardless 
of all advice given for such torpedoing by night, 
which is to keep circling for fear of the submarine, 
regardless of any danger to himself, stopped his ship 
and saved practically all the men. He received a 
letter from the survivors written so soon after they 
were saved that the handwriting was still shaky." 

To my way of thinking, there is just as much to 
be said for the other men of the Suicide Fleet as 
there is for the ''College Kids." The latter have, no 
doubt, a popular appeal, but the former have a pic- 
turesqueness that is all their own. On duty, there 
is no choice between them, and, of course, no dis- 
tinction; here I have separated them only for your 
passing attention, and having done so, let me quote 
you, even at some length, from the writings of three 
representatives of the non-academic jacky-class. 

These men were writing accounts of their first 
few months at sea during the present war. It does 
not here concern us whom they were addressing; the 
only point is that, though I later received permission 
to make such use as I pleased of what they wrote, 
they did not write with any self-consciousness. It 
seems to me that the simple manner in which they 



26 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

have told their stories is the best testimony to their 
worth and valor. 

The first writer is a young fellow that enlisted be- 
fore the war and began his active life in the Navy: 

"We left New York harbour, the fifth of June, 

pulled down to and coaled ship ; then we pulled 

to the Azore Islands, and there we coaled ship. From 
the Azore Islands we hit a heavy storm, which lajsted 
two days. We arrived at our French port on 
the 25th of June. 

"We lay there for two weeks, and then carried 
our first convoy out. On this first bit of convoy- 
work, we were rammed by the W . It knocked 

us all out of our bunks, bent in our bow, and, 
though we were for a time alarmed, we found that 
the damage was slight and we made port without 
help. 

"The second time we went out, we were about two 
days at sea and had picked up our convoy and were 
on the way in, when one of our fleet was torpedoed. 
She went down in four and a half minutes, and we 
picked up a hundred and sixty-three survivors. 

"I saw a guy coming down off the starboard bow, 
and I threw a rope to him. He was so weak that he 
couldn't hold to the rope. So I ran back to the fan- 
tail, and one boy tied a rope around me. Then I 
jumped off the fantail into the water. They threw 
me a rope, and I tied it on to the man, and we both 
were brought on board safely. . . . We came into 
port with our eurvivors. 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 27 

"The third time we went out, we were three days 
at sea and picked up five ships, with the assistance of 
four torpedo-boats and three yachts. On the way 
in, a big transport was hit and a huge hole torn in 
her side, thirty feet by forty. 

*'We picked up ninety-three of her crew, who had 
jumped overboard." 

Seaman No. 2, used to be, I was told, a clerk in 
an inland city : 

" . . . . The best yachts in the country, they fixed 
up and sent right over. We came in the Vidette, 
with the first eight. She was Drexel Paul's uncle's 
yacht, and the crew were college kids, and some old- 
timers re-enlisted and a few fellows that went into 
the service because they hadn't anywhere else to go. 
There is a lot of rough stuff in the Navy, but when 
you get right down to the bunch, they're a pretty fine 
lot of fellows. 

**The trip across didn't amount to much; I don't 
know what to put in about it. No one knew where 
they were going. A great many were seasick and all 
that stuff. On the way over, just before we reached 
France, we heard of German raiders. We'd get all 
excited and chase up to see what it was, but it never 
came to anything. 

"One morning, I was going on watch, when I hap- 
pened to spy a black object on the horizon. We 
couldn't make out what it was. The Captain started 
over towards it. As we got nearer, it turned out to 
be a dead elephant. That's a fact. It was full of 



28 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

holes. I don't know how it ever got out there, un- 
less some ship was sunk, bringing animals from 
Africa for a circus. 

"A little before we came into port, our convoy- 
passed an American tanker that was sinking, and 
the Sultaiia went back and picked up the survivors. 
Just as we were arriving, the smallest yacht of the 
lot broke down, the Christahel, and she was towed 
in. She was an old ship, and made in England ; no 
one thought that she would last, and there at the last 
minute she broke down. But she was repaired and 
is still doing fine. 

**That was about all until we arrived here. We 
landed in France on July 4th, with the American flag 
flying. We stayed in port two weeks. Just as soon 
as we sort of got over our tired feeling, we went 
right out on patrol-duty. The first time was the 
worst weather for five or six months. We did pa- 
trol-duty all the time at first. Believe me, it was 
hard work! You couldn't eat; you couldn't sleep; 
you couldn't do anything. After that, it was pretty 
nice weather. 

"Around the third or fourth time we did convoy 
duty, we had our first experience of a torpedo. We 
had a big Greek steamer right beside us, so we didn't 
see the sub. It came up right behind a fishing-boat. 
It fired a torpedo and submerged. Got the Greek 
steamer. Took her forty minutes to go down. We 
never saw the sub again; we went on and left a 
French aeroplane looking for it. . . ." 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 29 

Finally, and at some length — for I think you will 
find him worth it— here is the story of a gunner's 
mate, second-class, who, eighteen months ago, was 
employed in a business-house in New York: 

"On March the 27th, having received information 
on good authority that war would be declared on or 
about April 2nd, I concluded to enter the naval 
service. With this object in mind, I visited the office 
of the Naval Reserve force, 26 Cortlandt St., New 
York City, and was interviewed by the recruiting 
officer. 

"After questioning me concerning my qualifica- 
tions, age, etc., it was thought that I was much over 
the age-limit, I being over forty-five years of age. 
Later, the lieutenant ascertained that it was possible 
to enlist me for coast-defense service in America, 
and endeavored to have me enlist as a yeoman, but 
I desired active service at sea instead of being a yeo- 
man on recruiting duty. After passing the physical 
examination, I was accepted as a seaman, first class, 
and enrolled in the fourth class division, Coast De- 
fense. A week or so later, after interview with Cap- 
tain Patton of the recruiting station, he advised me 
to study up various manuals and take an oral exam- 
ination for gunner's mate, third class, and appear 
before him the following week. 

"I appeared as requested and passed the examina- 
tion favorably, and received my notification to call 
at the Naval Reserve Office, Brooklyn Naval Yard 
for active duty. I called as directed, and, after sub- 



30 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

mitting to another medical examination, was ushered 
into a room and received my sailor outfit, which I 
was ordered to put on. 

"I tried to explain that I had left my desk open 
with many important papers lying around and de- 
sired to return at once in order to straighten up my 
affairs. It took some time to convince the officer 
that it was absolutely necessary for me to remove 
my uniform and return to my office, but at last I 
received the consent. . . . 

"I was assigned to the Corsair, which used to be 
Mr. Morgan's yacht. After a long search, I found 
her in one of the numerous docks for which the 
Navy Yard is noted. I boarded her, and the sentry 
passed me over to the Bos'n, who showed me where 
my compartment was to be, likewise my bunk, I 
proceeded to make myself at home, and at five- 
thirty that p. M.^ I had my supper, the first meal 
aboard the ship. That night, I slept in my bunk, 
and, although it was quite small for me, I enjoyed a 
good night's rest. 

"The following morning at six-thirty, reveille 
sounded, and I commenced my duties. For several 
weeks, we were busily engaged in carrying aboard 
ammunition, supplies, etc. About June 11th, we 
were hauled over to the coal-docks and had our 
bunkers filled with coal. Then a wagon came along- 
side the dock with a large number of burlap bags. 
We filled the bags with coal, and soon the deck was 
almost impassable on account of the bags. 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 31 

"On the morning of June 14th, at 3 :30 A. m., all 
hands were awakened in the most silent fashion by 
the chief boatswain's mate and ordered to take their 
station and prepare to go to sea. I hastily got into 
my clothes, went up on deck and found it to be a 
dark, misty morning, with a heavy fog overhanging, 
and the air cold and penetrating. 

"At four A. M. we pulled up anchor and silently 
moved out into the stream. By midday we were 
well out of sight of land. 

"Soon the fog lifted, and we could see several 
large cruisers, quite a number of armed yachts and 
several torpedo-boats in our vicinity. Later we were 
joined by the large transports, and we set off in 
three divisions, each division having a large cruiser, 
armed yachts and torpedo-boats as their escort. Our 
boat accompanied the first division and kept up with 
the fleet for several days, when we were ordered to 
fall back and join the second group. For five days 
we were practically alone at sea, somewhere between 
the first and second division. One morning just as 
it was getting daylight, we could see the top masts 
of the second division hovering into sight. Soon 
we joined up and were assigned to the special con- 
voy of the U. S. S. , the famous transport of 

the Marines. 

"From time to time we would get close to this 
and would receive the cheers from the Marines 
aboard her. We in turn cheered back, and thus the 
days passed until we were two days off the coast of 



32 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

France. Then our division was attacked by sub- 
marines. 

"From what I have heard, two torpedoes were 
fired at the transport, one just passing her bow and 

the other her stern. The torpedo-boat C and 

ours followed the submarines' wake and the C , 

being the nearest, was seen to drop several depth- 
charges which destroyed at least one submarine, as 
the effects of the charge were visible by the oil and 
pieces of wreckage which came to the surface. Ap- 
parently there was no excitement aboard any of the 
ships. A vigilant vvatch was kept, but no more sub- 
marines were seen. 

"On June 27th, about four a. m., revolving light- 
houses along the coast of France were seen, and la- 
ter in the day, the coast itself became a reality. 
About 7 a. m., we poked out noses into some quaint 
old harbour and lay there for the day. That eve- 
ning we were given liberty, and for the first time in 
the experience of many of us, we were walking llie 
streets of a foreign port. 

"The transport went through a canal, and the 
troops disembarked amid the cheers of an excited 
populace. To the French people it was very evident 
that America had in reality commenced to be her 
ally, and they were actually in the war. 

"For hours and hours they were singing French 
and American songs, and soon the streets were 
thronged with American blue jackets and American 
soldiers in khaki. We had many amusing experi- 







O 
u 

< 

<u 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 33 

ences when we sought to buy different things we 
needed, as we could not speak French nor the store- 
keepers EngHsh. Good-nature prevailed, and, if we 
didn't get exactly what we wanted, we came very 
near to it. The people were anxious to serve us and 
make us feel at home. 

**After several days, we pulled up anchor for some 
other place in France and, after steaming for a 
whole day, we arrived at a quaint place which 
proved to be our permanent base for future opera- 
tions. Our ship and another armed yatch of sim- 
ilar type was the first of the permanent fleet, which 
was soon to be organized to patrol the submarine 
zone. We were given liberty, and, without any hur- 
rahs or cheers, we visited the town, and soon the 
people learned to know that we were the advance 
guard of the oncoming fleet which was soon to pro- 
tect their shores. 

"After several days' rest, our boat put to sea alone 
and did patrol-duty, searching for submarines, and 
returned after four days and four nights. Nothing 
unusual happened during this trip, but we did notice 
a great amount of wreckage, giving evidence that 
the submarines had gotten in their deadly work. 

"The next several weeks were spent in cruising 
about the sea searching for the elusive subs, but none 
put in an appearance to challenge us. Later our du- 
ties were changed, and, with several newly arrived 
torpedo-lx)ats, we would go to sea to meet the arriv- 
ing transports and supply-ships and convoy them to 



34 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

the different ports. There was no question that the 
submarines were in our vicinity and were ready and 
eager at all times to sink our ships with their pre- 
cious cargoes. During July and August we con- 
tinued to do this class of work without any exciting 
incident. Ships were met at sea and convoyed safe- 
ly into port and again were convoyed safely out on 
their return journey to America. 

"About the first week in September, we put out to 
sea and were out about two days when we came 
upon a large fleet of ships, probably twenty-five or 
thirty, somewhere off the coast of England. There 
was a great array of cruisers and torpedo-boats ac- 
companying the fleet, and it was an inspiring sight. 
That evening, about six o'clock, our ship, with a 
French torpedo-boat, received orders to convoy four 
of the large ships into one of the ports. We pro- 
ceeded on our way, and about an hour later one of 
the ships signalled to us that a submarine was sighted 
off her port. We continued on our way, keeping a 
vigilant watch, but through the long hours of the 
night nothing was seen more of the submarine. 

''About 7 :45 a. m. next day, one of the ships sig- 
nalled again that the submarine was again off her 
port, and later another ship signalled that the sub- 
marine was off her starboard side. All of the ships 
commenced firing, and at intervals, for over an hour, 
shots were fired at the submarine — which turned out 
to be submarines — whenever they poked their per- 
iscopes above the surface or when their wakes were 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 35 

noticeable. Our ship led the way, but the four ships 
strung out, and the French torpedo-boat followed in 
the rear. Later a large airplane hove in sight, and 
we were notified by the aviator that we were over a 
mine-field that had been sown by the subs during the 
night. We got through safely, however, and landed 
the ships in port, no damage being done. I learned 
afterwards that two German submarines were sunk 
in this engagement. 

"After spending an hour or two in port, we put 
again to sea. We met another convoy and brought 
them safely into another port. A day later we 
pulled up anchor and made for our own base, where 
we lay over just long enough to coal up and put on 
some supplies, when we were off again for a well- 
known port in England. Here we put on a large 
quantity of depth-charges and, after a few hours' 
liberty ashore, pulled up anchor and left the port 
with the cheers of the English jackies ringing in 
our ears. 

"The following morning, while on gun-watch, I 
observed a peculiar object skimming along the sur- 
face of the water. At first I thought it was a por- 
poise, but was soon convinced that it was a torpedo 
which had just missed us and spent itself. I made 
a report to the ordnance-officer, and we continued 
our journey without anything happening. Later I 
learned that two torpedoes had been fired on us on 
that trip. 

"It was very fortunate for us that none of the 



36 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

torpedoes connected with us in this eventful voyage, 
for, if we had been hit with that deadly cargo 
aboard, no one would have ever lived to tell the tale. 
We would have been blown to atoms. 

"We got in safely, however, and distributed the 
depth-charges to the other ships of the fleet and pro- 
ceeded out to sea again, to meet another convoy. 
While on this trip w-e sighted a sail on what ap- 
peared to be a life-boat and, on coming closer, we 
saw men in it frantically waving their hands at us. 
We picked them up and learned that they were part 
of the crew of a large fishing-boat that had been 
sunk by a German sub. Later we picked up two 
other boats, rescuing in all sixteen men. 

"All through the month of September, we were 
busily engaged in convoy work, but nothing really 
exciting except some heavy storms intermingled 
with calm seas. 

"On October 2nd, while we were several hundred 
miles out to sea and had just left a large convoy on 
the way to America, the stillness of the afternoon 
was broken by five shots in rapid succession. At 
first we thought it was target-practise from a ship 
in our vicinity. That did not deter us, however, in 
seeking out the cause of the shot. 

"After steaming in the direction of the shots for 
alx)Ut an hour, we sighted a large fishing-bark. Off 
in the distance were six life-boats containing a num- 
ber of men. Suddenly two more shots rang out, and 
we could see a sub several miles off the port side of 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 37 

the bark. We immediately pursued the submarine, 
which submerged. When we got over her wake, we 
got busy at once with our depth-charges. Whether 
we got the sub or not is a question for the future to 
decide. We returned in several hours and picked 
up the men in the boats, who were to the number of 
thirty-one. After they were safely aboard, we of- 
fered to put them back on their ship, which was still 
afloat and uninjured. Only one man was willing to 
go back, and he was the captain. Quite a number 
of the men on our ship volunteered to man the bark 
and try to take her into port. This our Captain re- 
fused to permit, deeming it unwise. A wireless mes- 
sage w^as sent out, notifying all ports that the ship 
was unmanned and adrift at sea. Later w^e were no- 
tified by wireless that an English torpedo-boat had 
towed her safely into port. 

"At 11 :30 p. M. of this same day, the night being 
dark and the sea somewhat rough, our Captain 
changed his course, and we w^ere somewhat startled 
to discover on the dark surface of the water a large 
German submarine. We immediately opened fire, 
and the submarine submerged. We got over her 
wake and destroyed her with a depth-charge. This 
v^^as evident by the large amount of oil and wreckage 
seen on the surface. We were told by the French- 
men aboard, whom we had rescued during the day, 
that there were three submarines all told at the time 
their ship was attacked. This submarine was evi- 
dently one of them and had followed us. 



38 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"About 7 A. M. on a day in mid-October, three 
days from land, we were taking a convoy out to sea. 
A loud report was heard, and one of our yachts 
seemed to suddenly list and settle in the water. She 
sank quickly, stern first, and in four minutes there 
was nothing visible of her except those who had suc- 
ceeded in manning the life-boats or were floating on 
pieces of wreckage. Two of the ships which we 
were convoying doubled their speed and got away 
safely. With us at that time was the Alccdo, with 
which we returned and picked up the survivors 
amounting to several hundred. Sixty-seven men 
were lost in this tragedy. We brought the survivors 
back to port and then proceeded to a southerly port 
to convoy out another small fleet of transports. 

"On October the 25th, we proceeded to sea with 
three large ships in the convoy, one of them being a 
former large liner turned into a transport. On Oc- 
tober the 27th, at 9 :30 a. m., when we thought that 
we had safely cleared the submarine zone, a torpedo 
was seen to tear a large hole forward on the star- 
board side of the big ship. It was thought by all that 
she would sink in a few moments, and her civilian 
crew were seen taking to the life-boats. At this mo- 
ment, a great storm arose, and the sea became very 
rough. The torpedo-boats, which were with us, im- 
mediately made off for the other ships and got them 
safely through the Danger Zone. With the Alcedo, 
we returned and picked up a number of men who 
had taken to the life-boats and returned most of 



THE COLLEGE KIDS 39 

them to the transport, which it was now evident 
would not sink and could probably return to port un- 
der her own steam. 

"Nothing eventual happened during the months of 
November and December. In January, while out to 
sea with several tordepo-boats, a hurricane came up- 
on us and we were tossed about for forty-eight hours 
and thought we were lost. The Captain succeeded 
in bringing the ship safely into a port in Spain, 
where it was thought that the repairs needed would 
take several weeks, and the Spanish authorities 
wished to intern the vessel. This the Captain re- 
fused to acquiesce, and, after resting several hours, 
we proceeded to sea for the nearest allied port in 
Portugal. Here needed repairs were made. . . The 
ship is still doing convoy work." 

That is the sort of material that made up your 
Uncle Samuel's Suicide Fleet in the waters of 
France. 



We didn't wait, though all our folks insisted; 

The hook had speedy fighting for its bait, 
And so we fellows — zuell — we just enlisted: 
We didn't wait. 

We had to go. The pace that battle sets you 

Won't let us sort of fellozvs be so slow; 
Somehow, the fact that you are needed gets you: 
We had to go. 

So here we are — or, what's left of us, rather; 

We've wandered kind of wild and kind of far; 
But, still, we like the life — as you can gather. 
Since here %ve are. 

— ^Volunteers. 



CHAPTER III 

PERILS OF THE DEEP 

I FIRST sailed with the Suicide Fleet in the early 
autumn of 1917, and most of the incidents I have 
thus far recorded occurred either before or shortly 
after that time. Those were the days when the 
harlequin-yachts had but one chance of safety : 

^Tt's this way," I remember a volunteer of forty- 
two explained the matter: "A sub's torpedo costs 
about $25,000, and our boats have been so knocked 
about by this time that their marked value isn't 
more than $15,000 apiece. Of course, once in a 
while we do so much damage that Fritzie loses his 
temper and thinks we're worth a tin-fish. If he ever 
hits us, it's good night : we're so little and we carry 
such a lot of explosives that we'd never know what 
struck us. That's the way it was with the Alcedo. 
I was aboard her." 

He told me about the Alcedo. I repeat his words, 
as nearly as possible, verbatim : 

**It was night, and winter, and cold. We was 
bringin' up the tail of a convoy. I was below, 
asleep in my bunk. All of a sudden — BANG! 

*T didn't need to be told what that was. I was 
out of my bunk and at the door before the explosion 
was over — mebbie the explosion threw me out. 

41 



42 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"Something had happened to the lights, and 
everything was pitch dark. I grabbed the door- 
knob — and the door had jammed. 

''Don't ask me how I got that door open. I don't 
know. I remember jerkin' down a bunk and ham- 
mering at the door with the bunk's iron framework, 
and then, the next thing I remember, I was on deck. 

"The way the men that was on duty behaved, you 
can tell that l^est from one story. We had a gob 
named Proon — something like that. He was one of 
the forward gun-crew and was at his station when 
the torpedo struck us. Nobody'd seen her coming. 
Nobody knew there was a sub anywhere near. We 
just all of a sudden got it. Well, this fellow, Proon, 
or whatever his name was, he was blown overboard, 
clear into the sea. Force of the explosion, you 
know. They found out afterwards both of his shoes 
was blown off, and one ankle broken and one 
sprained. But he swam back to the ship and crawled 
to his station at the gun, although he knew all along 
we were done for — and he stayed there till Four- 
Stripes gave the order to abandon ship. It was all 
over in about five minutes, but it seemed like five 
hours. 

"About me. By the time I got on deck the show 
was done. There was one fellow in the fantail. I 
yelled to him v/here was the others. 

" They're all gone,' he says. 'Lend a hand here,' 
he says, 'an' we'll launch this raft.' 

"You see, he was tryin' to launch a raft. I helped, 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 43 

but it was dark, and she was goin' down by the 
head, and there was only the two of us. 

"When the raft was 'most ready, I says : 

" *Is that a hfe-preserver you got on?' — It was 
dark, you understand. 

"An' he says, yes, it was. 

"So I says : 

" 'Well, I'm goin' to try to find one/ 

"He told me not to be a fool, for there wasn't no 
time to spare. But I ran down to my bunk — slid 
'most the way — but it was blacker down there than 
on deck, even. So I beat it on deck again an' tried 
to find the place where I knew a locker used to be. 
I sung out to that fellow on the fantail — he was close 
by — I sung out : 

" *Let me know when she goes !' 

"Right away, almost, just when I found that lock- 
er and was hangin' over it, he calls : 

" 'Here she goes, Charley !' 

"And with that I jumped. There wasn't a chance 
of gettin' back to him, so I jumped. 

"It was freezin' cold in the water, an' the water 
was full of men swimmin'. You'd butt into them. 
I bumped one. From his voice I knew it was a fel- 
low named Coleman that they used to say had been a 
porter, or somethin', at the Waldorf Hotel in New 
York. Along with me, he got to a four-man raft; 
but it had five men on it, an' he seen he'd only make 
things dangerous for everybody else if he stayed on. 
So he just says: 



44 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"'Good-by, boys, an' good luck!' — an' he dove 
off. 

**I heard a boat picked him up an hour later, an' 
he was 'most all in. But I was glad he was picked 
up. 

"I got to another raft, somehow. It was bigger, 
but fellows kep' climbin' aboard till it was gettin' 
overcrowded, too. There was an officer in com- 
mand. 

"One o' the first fellows on her w'as a young Jew 
fellow. We used to guy him, one way an' another, 
in the old days. Well, bye an' bye, the officer he 
says: 

" *This raft's overcrow^ded. There's one too many 
on her. One of us'U have to go.' 

"Just then there wasn't any other raft, let alone a 
boat, anywhere in sight, but no sooner'd the officer 
said about somebody havin' to go than the Jew, he 
saluted, an' 'Aye, aye, sir,' he says, an' jumped off 
into the water. 

"It was a little after that that one of the Akedo's 
boats come alongside, an' she was almost empty an' 
took us all off the raft. 

"We couldn't see anything, and of course the con- 
voy'd got away as fast as it could. That's accordin' 
to orders; wlien a sub gets into action, the convoy 
must run: if you stayed to pick up survivors you 
might all get caught. 

"So we went pullin' along, not knowin' whether 
we was headin' for France or New York, when, just 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 45 

out of nothin' at all, there was the sub right on our 
starboard bow. A lot of men wxre standin' on her 
deck. 

" 'What ship was that?' one of them asked. He 
talked good English. I guess he was the captain. 

*'A gob in our boat shouted out 'Alcedo' before 
our officer could stop him. He told her tonnage, too. 

*'But the Dutchman, he didn't seem to know the 
name, for he says next : 

*' 'What was she?' 

'Then our officer, he says : 

" 'Empty tramp. Bound home.' 

" 'An' who are you ?' asks Fritz. 

" 'Twelve o' the crew,' says our officer. 

" 'Any officers among you ?' says the German. 

" 'No,' says our officer. 'An' which way's land?' 
he says. 

"The Dutchman told us one way an' went below; 
but he must 'a' thought better of it, for we hadn't 
gone but a few strokes before he was up again an' 
yellin' after us that just the opposite way was the 
right way — an' it was. 

"That was the last we saw of him. We pulled 
for fifteen hours. Every once in a while, w^'d kind 
o' lose heart an' quit. When you was relieved from 
rowin', you'd lie in the bottom an' think things. I 
heard one of the other boats dried their tobacco and 
tried to smoke, but hadn't got any dry matches, so 
they just threw it away because it was an aggrava- 
tion there. Some of us were better off, for we were 



46 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

chewers. I'd learned to chew, workin' in the steel- 
mills, an' I think it about saved my life. 

"Well, anyway, we made land at last. I was all 
in, lyin' in the bottom an' all ready to die, when 
somebody yelled, an' I jumped up an' seen a pretty 
white lighthouse — I never did see anything so pretty 
as that lighthouse was — an' right away all my 
strength come back, an' I took an oar an' pulled like 
a dray-horse. 

"We landed at a funny little French village, 
where they hadn't never seen Americans before, an' 
they made such a feast for us that we all says we're 
goin' back there — when the war's over. They gave 
us their own kind o' clothes an' wooden shoes — an' 
that's the way we was all dressed when we got back 
to the Base." 

As the survivor concluded, I recollected what I 
had heard, from the doctors at Naval Base Hos- 
pital No. 5, who told me of the arrival of the other 
boats' crews, which, picked up by a French destroyer, 
made the same port where from the Alcedo had 
started. It was night. A wireless message from the 
attacked convoy warned them to be ready for sur- 
vivors. They cruised the harbour, and beyond it, to 
no purpose. 

"We returned at last to the pier," said one doctor, 
"and almost at once that little wasplike destroyer 
appeared. She made a beautiful landing, but her 
load of survivors were dreadfully done up. One of 
them was so weak that he couldn't walk. He col- 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 47. 

lapsed and fell into the water between the boat and 
the pier. It was a nasty place for a rescue, but 
Doctor Herman dove in, with two sailors, and got 
him out. The sort of condition those Alccdo men 
must have been in to begin with, though, is shown by 
the fact that we didn't have one case of pneumonia 
among them." 

My special informant concerning the Alcedo af- 
fair was doing shore-police duty when he told me 
his story. 

*'Once we got back to the Base," he grinned, "they 
all pulled the hero stuff on us. The Admiral gave 
us Paris-leave, and the Y. M. C. A. paid for the trip. 
We had the time of our lives." 

*'And now you're ashore for good?" I asked him. 

He grew sad again. 

*Tor bad," he corrected. "Looks like it. There's 
not boats enough. I don't care for it. If I can't 
get back to sea somehow, I'm goin' to try to get 
some sort o' transfer to the Marines, or even the 
Army. O' course, it won't be as excitin' at the front 
as on the yachts, but it'll be better'n playin' cop." 

It was certainly exciting work, that of the Mos- 
quito Fleet, at times, but it was work in long shifts, 
too. At Bordeaux I was ashore in December with 
one party of officers when we met another: 

"We've had leave only once since September 6th," 
a member of the second party told me. 

"Any action ?" I inquired. 

"Not much this trip. Still, we've had eight sub- 



48 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

scares — not a buoy or a floating box, but the real 
thing. Six times we had a chance to open fire and, 
out of that half-dozen times, our shots never but 
once landed more than ten feet away from the mark. 
Once one of the lookouts called the commander's at- 
tention to a sea-gull that didn't seem to be behaving 
naturally; we took a look — and that gull had come 
to rest on a periscope. We gave her" — he used the 
term that the term "depth-charge" has gradually 
changed to — "we gave her a death-bomb, but I think 
she got away." 

It was on this occasion that we fell to talking of 
the Antilles. On his converted yacht, the officer 
that had just been speaking was present when that 
homeward-bound transport w^as torpedoed. 

"She settled by the stern in four minutes," he told 
me, "and then the water got to her boilers and they 
exploded. The explosion raised the ship clear of the 
water. In one sense, it was a blessing; only four 
boats had been got over the side, and two of those 
capsized; there hadn't been time to launch the life- 
rafts, and nearly everybody had jumped into the 
water, but that blast shook the rafts free and spread 
them broadcast within reach of the swimmers. Not 

of all, however; as the C steamed up for rescue 

work, she sighted a Jackie floating astride of an am- 
munition-box that turned out to have one six-inch 
shell left in it: he stood up on the box and wig- 
wagged to the C with his arms, to take care on 

account of that shell, and not to ram the loaded box." 



o 

bo 
G 

'o 
bo 

I 
O 



# 




m 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 49 

There was a Marine who had been so ill that he 
was ordered home aboard the Antilles. He was res- 
cued and ordered home on the Finlafid. He set out 
on her and, when she was torpedoed, his arm was 
broken. When I last saw him he was wondering 
whether the Navy would trust another ship to the 
waves with such an ill-starred passenger. 

"We were convoying the Finland/' a Mosquito 

Fleet man, an officer of the W , told the story — 

*'and I was in the wardroom at about 9 :20 a. m.^ 
when I heard the day-time sub-signal : six blasts on 
the whistle. I think I couldn't have been more than 
twenty seconds getting on deck. 

" 'What's wrong?' I asked the first jackies I ran 
into. 

" 'Finland's torpedoed,* they said. 

"I looked at her. For quite a bit, you couldn't 
have told that anything had happened to her, but the 
convoy was running around, dropping depth- 
charges. The flagship signalled us that our job 
would be looking after survivors — it wasn't a case 
where running away would help, and, besides, there 
was a chance — we could see it at once — of saving the 
transport. 

"A good deal of stuff had been flung overboard, 
and, as I watched, more came over. Then they be- 
gan to get the boats off her — there was a consider- 
able sea running — and most of them swamped. It 
wasn't a pretty sight by a long shot. 

"We started in through the wreckage and worked 



50 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

till noon, picking up twenty-six men, but it was the 
toughest kind of work, owing to the roughness of 
the water ; we were pitching so that it was next to 
impossible to get anybody aboard. We had to go 
slow, and the result was that most of the rescued 
had been too long in the water. Some of them 
couldn't raise an arm to show us where they were; 
a lot were doubled up with cramps, and, whereas 
nearly all began by shouting for help, pretty soon — 
in about half an hour, I should say — there wasn't a 
sound to be heard from them. 

"All of a sudden, we sighted a fellow about sev- 
enty yards away from us, practically done for 
and giving in. He had a life-preserver on, and 
that's all that was keeping him afloat; there was a 
moment when it was doubtful whether there was 
any life left in him at all. Well, there followed the 
best piece of rescue-work that I've ever seen. 

*'That man was to windward of us, and of course 
we were drifting faster than he was: every second 
increased the distance between us and lessened his 
slim chances, and there was no time to try to bring 
the ship around. Ensign English, a reserve officer, 
stripped and grabbed a heaving-line — a heaving-line 
is seven-eighths of an inch thick — and jumped into 
that high sea of icy water. 

"We thought of course he'd not live to reach the 
chap. I never saw harder swimming. The fellow 
from the Finland was a good eighty yards away by 
now, but English fought through about seventy 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 51 

yards of it, fighting his way over the huge waves — 
and just there he found that the Hne wasn't long 
enough. 

"What did he do? He swam back — back to the 
ship again — got a double-length rope and went after 
that fellow a second time! Yes, sir. And he got 
him — God knows how, but he got him! Chucked 
about in those waves, he made a noose with two 
Matthew Walker knots, so it wouldn't slip, and put 
it around the Finland man and drew it fast, sig- 
nalled to us to haul, and then beat his way back with 
one hand while he helped hold up the dying man's 
head with the other. 

*We were pitching heavily. Now our propellers 
would be clear, and now our prow would be fourteen 
feet out of water. Once the pair of them were 
alongside, it took us nearly half an hour to get them 
aboard. By that time, English was about as nearly 
dead as the fellow he'd saved. But he had saved 
him — at what risk and with what labour you can see 
from what I've told you, and — now, here's the joke : 
when we got that rescued man ashore, it turned out 
that all English's danger and heroism had been un- 
dertaken for a spy !" 

One more story and I shall have done with tales 
of the Suicide Fleet. I have omitted, in my first 
chapter, the story of the submarine-chase by a boat 
on which I was sailing, because I wanted to report 
such an event in the authentic language of an ex- 
pert. Here, then, at last, is such a narrative in the 



52 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

words of an officer as I took them down while he 
uttered them: 

''We left S— — (a French port) with a convoy 
and an escort of 5^achts and destroyers. It was 
about a month after the Finland had been caught, 
and we had a little moon and early. It was about a 
three-quarters moon at 6:15, but there were low 
clouds on the horizon that gave the green hands sub- 
scares and caused one or two false alarms. I was in 
my cabin at 6 :30, when the General Alarm sounded. 
There was no time to put on a life-preserver, so I 
jumped out and up to my station. On my way up, 
I saw the light-signal for a submarine from the near- 
est yacht. 

'Tor a bit nothing happened. We fussed and sig- 
nalled, but we got no further news from our neigh- 
bours. It seemed forever, and it seemed as if 
nothing would happen. The sea was calm, and every- 
thing was as still as can be. Then, perhaps after 
twenty minutes, a yacht somewhere off in the twi- 
light started to si^-en. 

"W^e hopped around like mad. We hopped so 
quick that it was all you could do to keep your feet. 
Fifteen minutes of that, before a lookout called a 
sub. We jumped for it, but didn't spot anything 
worth a shot. We made about quickly, and, at last, 
there was a sure-enough periscope on our port beam, 
two hundred yards away and heading in the oppo- 
site direction. She was making a beautiful wake. 

"We'd had plenty of time, and everything was 



PERILS OF THE DEEP S3 

ready. We fired two shots, and the second was 
some shot, I tell you ! It hit that periscope — hit it 
square and blew it to bits. 

*That seemed to fuss her. She looked like she 
was starting to submerge all the way, but she cut 
right under our stern, where we could take another 
easy pot at her. We came around, let the swirl of 
her submergence get about abaft our beam and let 
down two depth-charges, one right after the other. 

"I guess we were quicker letting those charges 
down than our speed could guarantee. Almost, 
anyhow. All I'm sure of is, there was the guldernd- 
est explosion you ever saw — or felt. I am second- 
ary fire-control, and I'm aft, right where those T. 
N. T. cans begin their work; well, sire, the whole 
dog-gasted ocean came up — wreckage, oil, water and 
what looked like the bottom of the sea. 

*'I fell on the deck. When I picked myself up, the 
fellows were all cheering. It got right hold of you, 
and it wasn't till the cheering was over and even the 
bubbles were well astern, that I had a chance to feel 
scared. Then I found that the skipper had been 
knocked down, too. 

"We circled and headed right back through that 
wreckage. There were two or three men floating in 
the middle of it, but they were dead men — dead men 
in life-preservers, bobbing up and down in a lot of 
black, sticky-looking stuff. By that time, I was a bit 
scared — and by that time it was all over." 

As, however, I have intimated, these tales of the 



54 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Suicide Fleet far afloat, though tales hitherto un- 
told, are bits of ancient history. With the arrival, 
last winter, of more destroyers in French waters, 
these took up that deeper-sea tasks which had at 
first been the task of the harlequin-yachts : the Mos- 
quito Fleet had done its pioneer work and was de- 
tailed to coastal convoy and patrol-duty. 

The life that they now lead the Mosquito men 
have woven into a rough song, which they sing to 
the air of Tipperary. I noted it. It goes : 

They send us out each evening 

For to hunt the coast-convoy; 
It's under way at 8 p. m.^ 

Full speed, hearts full of joy; 
But when we get to Rubber, 

Zinc, or Copper down the bay. 
We hear those ships are hours late. 

And to ourselves we say : 

CHORUS : 

It's a long way to meet the convoy. 

It's a long way to go ; 
There's no rest that way upon, boy, 

"Unless you touch Bordeaux : 
Good-by, Continental j, 

Farewell, Grand Cafe; 
It's a long, long way to Rue de Siam — ^ 

But we'll get back there some day! 

The metals mentioned in the stanza are code- 
words employed in orders, and the true significance 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 55 

of them one is not permitted to divulge, but the 
Continental and the Grand Cafe are places of con- 
vivial resort at the Base, and the Rue de Siam is 
that street there which our jackies, remembering the 
Brooklyn Navy Yard, have named Sand Street. 
The song goes on : 

We sail all round and round the bay, 

And ne'er a ship we see, 
Although we sail till sunup and 

Are searching carefully. 
At last we get a radio : 

"They're fifty hours out" — 
There's nothing else for us to do 

But swear and put about. 

CHORUS : 

It's a long way, etc. 

I'd like to be the Boss at Base 

For just about a week : 
I'd ship the whole Flag Office on 

A cruise of hide-and-seek; 
I'd start them nowhere every night, 

To chase themselves till day; 
I'd make them wish that they all were 

Back in the U. S. A. 

CHORUS : 

It*s the wrong way our boats to send, boy ; 

It's the wrong way to jog; 
It's the wrong way to treat a friend, boy, 

Or a little yellow dog ; 



S6 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

But the Boss the Base is on, boy : 

We'll get our chance again; 
It's a durn dull job, this coastal convoy, 

But we'll still be sailormen ! 

Putting, perhaps, the same feeling into prose, a 
Mosquito Fleet skipper said to me : 

"What we're on now is a regular yachting-cruise. 
Why, we go to bed with the ports open ! Our guns 
are almost getting rusty; they haven't been used, 
except in practise, for six weeks. Last trip I caught 
a member of the gun-crew asleep at his post, and I 
could hardly find the face to blam.e him. All the 
taste of fighting we get is listening-in by radio to 
raids out at sea. That's our chief indoor sport." 

Nevertheless, the men that talk thus do so only 
because their recent past has set them so severe a 
standard of comparison. As a matter of fact, to 
bring merchant ships, laden with important freight, 
along the Atlantic coast of France in time of war is 
to perform a task of no little responsibility and no 
small danger. Only the increased efficiency of other 
branches of our naval service has reduced the dan- 
gers of direct submarine-attack; the dangers from 
submarine-laid mines are still sufficient, and the nat- 
ural perils of that coast are little short of enormous. 
The Mosquito Fleet's present duties are performed 
by night and in darkness; there is a certain com- 
mander that had been so doing his share of them for 
seven months; not long since, he for the first time 
"made the nm" by day; when he had passed the 



PERILS OF THE DEEP 57. 

shallow channels, the needlelike rocks and the half- 
submerged reefs and had landed safely at the Base- 
port, he was frankly horrified by what he had seen. 

"Have I been going over such a course all this 
time without really realizing it?" he gasped. "Go- 
ing over it and leading other ships? By cricky, if 
I'd seen what I was doing the first time I tried it, 
I don't believe I'd have had the nerve !" 

But he would have had. The nerve of the Mos- 
quito Fleet's officers and men has added a new tradi- 
tion of honor to our Navy, 



The spider siis in the web he span — web 

he span — web he span — 
The spider sits in the web he span, 

Waiting the fractious fly; 
Never a hurried or worried khan, 
Perfectly pleased with his pretty plan. 
He's a regular gentleman — 

Say, do you wonder why? 
Being predestinarian, 
Well he knozus that the web he span 
Is going to can, if anything can. 

Poor little Conrad Fly. 

The Admiral waits at his desk ashore — 

desk ashore — desk ashore — 
The Admiral zmits at his desk ashore. 

Talking to every tub; 
Over a thousand miles or more 
(Radio, flash and semaphore) 
These are his orders: hear him roar: 

''Sink me another sub! 
Peel her plates and pick her core, 
Cop her Cap. for a trip ashore; 
Throw the rest to the ocean's floor. 

Bread for Beelzebub !" 

— The Admiral. 



PART TWO 

Romance Ashore 

CHAPTER IV 

THE SPIDER IN HIS WEB 

yl NEW office-building in an old town. Across 
x\.the busy street, an open square, in which a 
French band is playing. About five hundred yards 
down-hill, a magnificent harbour — so far as the work 
of Nature is concerned, the equal of New York's. 

You climb a flight of stairs— another — four — 
because the war stopped construction just as the 
elevator was about to be installed — and you enter a 
right-angled hall off which opens a suite of eight 
apartments. Through their closed doors come the 
tapping of telegraph-instruments, the staccato clatter 
of typewriters. 

You might well imagine yourself at the head- 
quarters of a great brokerage firm in Chicago: in- 
stead, you are at a battle-front. You are in the 
engine-room of that vast power-system which is con- 
veying the fighting men of America through the war 
at sea to the war on land. These are the executive 
bureaux of the United States Naval Forces operat- 
ing in French waters. 

Not one American in five thousand realizes what 

59 



60 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

it is that these offices are doing. Not one in one 
thousand is actively conscious that such offices exist. 
The traditionally "Silent Navy" of England is stri- 
dent in comparison with the silence that has walled 
in the work of the Navy of the United States here 
accomplished. Life-belted, seasick soldiers, squeez- 
ing their way to the crowded rails of incoming 
transports — these cheer till they are hoarse when, 
still far from land, the ducking destroyers appear 
out of nothingness, hop about them in the Danger 
Zone and herd them safely portwards; but, save 
for the members of the staff themselves — and they 
either can't or won't write about it — few indeed have 
a thorough-going conception of the tremendous job 
that is being done. 

It is a job without equal in all the history of war- 
fare. The Great King sent his hordes from Asia 
to Greece; Hannibal brought his Africans into Italy; 
Caesar passed through Gaul to Britain; Napoleon 
crossed the Alps, he penetrated Russia. But Amer- 
ica, against an enemy equipped with all the devices 
of modern science for war on and under water, is 
ferrying an army millions strong across the Atlantic 
Ocean by means of the United States Navy. 

In plain terms, the task is this : To get our men- 
ships and our supply-ships in and out of the Danger 
Zone with the utmost speed consistent with the ut- 
most safety. 

This means that, since the question of tonnage 
is vital, the empty outgoing boats are almost as im- 



THE SPIDER IN HIS WEB 61 

portant as are the boats that come in laden. It 
means a system of communication by radio, tele- 
phone and telegraph, of which the complexity stag- 
gers comprehension. It means co-ordinating plans 
whereby unlighted ships on a naturally perilous 
coast — convoys converging from a dozen points of 
the compass towards one point at one time — may 
send out and receive reports for the avoidance of 
mines, of submarines and, what is no less dangerous, 
of one another. It means the establishment of much 
such an office as would be required if all the railway 
traffic of America met, near a given point, on a 
single-track line — the office of a sort of omniscient 
train-dispatcher. 

That is the office opposite the open square in 
which the French band is playing at this port. 

Even if not one gun had been fired at sea before 
the August of 1918, for us ours would still have 
been, thus far, a three-quarters naval war. There 
was a night last autumn when one German submar- 
ine sank four American boats in French waters; 
Teutonic sea success on such a scale has ended — and 
if you could look at a certain map, you would see 
why. 

That is a changing map in this office, indicating, 
in some measure, what the office is for, and how it 
goes about it — a big map drawn on a large scale. 
It covers a shore-line terrible to sailors even in the 
days of peace, the entire shore-line of France, to 
wit, from a point on the Channel near western Flan- 



62 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

ders to that point on the Bay of Biscay Intersected 
by the Spanish border. From the spot on this map 
made for the port of which I am now writing, the 
Base or headquarters town, lines are drawn inland 
to Paris, to Rome, to Switzerland, northward to 
England and eastward to a score of dots along the 
land battle- fronts : the lines indicating routes of 
communication and information for the Navy. 

Along the map's line of coast, openly evident in big 
harbours, hidden away in tiny inlets and tucked be- 
tween the rocks of islands out at sea, are disks of 
many colours — the destroyer, submarine, armored 
yacht, mine-sweeper, balloon and hydroaeroplane 
bases that, divided between American and French 
forces, send out reports and ocean-policemen up and 
down, in and out, afloat, in the sky and under the 
water, from St. Jean de Luce to Dunkirk. 

It is a low, level and lofty spider's web that is set 
for every ocean menace; it is an intricate, ever- 
moving line of defense and attack that guards the 
transport long before the transport sees it. It is 
what alone gets our men to France, and what alone, 
once they have arrived, gets there the means of their 
maintenance. 

"You may see it all and write of it all," said the 
Admiral — and if you can picture a good-humored 
Thaddeus Stevens, a little fuller in the face, you 
can envisage the Admiral. "We haven't anything 
to hide, and we hope we haven't anything to be 
ashamed of. There's nothing to be concealed except 



THE SPIDER IN HIS WEB 63 

what would help the enemy. If there's anything 
wrong with the Navy, we want it known !" 

Rather an unusual welcome! But then the Ad- 
miral was ''playing safe" ; the Navy has almost noth- 
ing of which it need fear the exposure. 

It is working from what, to an American, is per- 
haps the most foreign seaport in France. The 
Phoenicians, it is said, laid out the foundations of 
that portside castle in which the bulk of our men 
ashore are quartered. Caesar, whose work is 
claimed everywhere, of course, improved it, and it 
was "completed" in the fourteenth Louis's time by 
that military architect who perfected the fortress of 
Verdun. The deafening noise of wooden shoes 
makes daylong tumult in its streets. Through it,, 
since this war began, have passed troops, English, 
Russian and Italian, and to-day, among the crowds 
of white-coiffed native women, walk soldiers Amer- 
ican, English, Portuguese, French, Algerian, and 
Cochin-Chinese — and each sort leaves its mark. 

Imagine the Admiral at the center of the web. 
From him radiate threads to all the naval posts and 
all the inland points that I have previously men- 
tioned. Then other threads — threads direct and 
crisscross. To the Army, via the coding officer and 
superintendent of ports; to the staff-representative 
in Paris and through him to the French Ministry of 
Marine; to our Paris naval attache, the chief of 
aviation, the heads of the troop and store escort; the 
commander of the United States Navy in European 



64 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

waters. More — threads to the Base's bureaux of pur- 
chases and payments, the Haison officer, communi- 
cation, naval intelligence, counter-espionage, cable 
censor, war-risk insurance, interallied radio. United 
States Army ports, French government departments, 
Versailles War Council, Naval Liaison Cojnmittee, 
the Allied Naval Council in London. And so on, et 
cetera and so forth. Directly under the Admiral's 
control are a few little items like the following : 

Vessels at this port, Yard Boatswain's office, 

Coastal convoy escort, Radio repair-shop, 

Tug fleet, Naval magazine. 

Naval port officer. Naval hospitals. 

Marine superintendent Shore patrol, 

with army. Docks, 

Supply office. Canteen, 

Repair-shop, Oiling stations. 

Repair-ship, Coastal stations. 

Barracks, Coaling stations, 

Supplies, Pay-office. 
Personnel department. 

After taking care of his part of the matters in- 
volved therein, the Admiral should need some sleep. 
As closely as my lay mind can figure, he ought to 
manage to get quite two hours out of every twenty- 
four — if his bedside telephone doesn't interrupt him. 

Each division has subdivisions under it. The 
Naval Constructor is in charge of material and sup- 
plies, and the office of Material and Supplies has 
bureaux for contracts, fuel and provisions, not to 




(e) Committee on Public Information 

Admiral Wilson, chief of fleet in France, and Admiral 
Moreau 



y^ 







THE SPIDER IN HIS WEB 65 

mention one deputy-supply officer in every district. 
The innocent-appearing head of ^'inspections" 
branches out into ship organization, gunnery and a 
mysterious department labeled ''Doctrine," that, as 
you will later see, has no relation to theology. "Op- 
erations" stretches down to "Movement Orders"; 
"Public Works" controls "Civil Engineers"; the 
Flag Secretary commands a dozen branches of 
which the least are boards of examination, promo- 
tion and investigation. 

Consider again the office of Communication: it 
has three subordinate offices, those of the "Coding 
Group," which seems to concern itself with the 
manufacture of new codes; plain "Codes," which 
destroys old ones and files documents, and "Radio," 
which governs three subdivisions, ending in one that 
has progeny of its own. 

I was trying to explain the situation to James Ha- 
zen Hyde. I said the Admiral and his staff re- 
minded me of a trust president and his lieutenants 
putting through some gigantic and endless deal in 
"industrials." 

"The Admiral," said Mr. Hyde, "must be like the 
late E. H. Harriman. He was the only man I ever 
knew that could talk over three long-distance 'phones 
on three different subjects at one time." 

The Admiral and his staff sleep in rooms just be- 
low their office. That is, they say they sleep. I 
asked the Admiral's orderly if he had ever seen him 
in bed, and he said : 



66 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"No, sir." 

Anyhow, that bedside telephone is a fact. The^ 
rooms are pleasant and, unless I am very much mis- 
taken, I used to sit, long before I went there to din- 
ner, in some of their easy chairs when they were in 
the smoking-room of a certain North German Lloyd 
liner. The point, however, is that I did pass a re- 
cent evening in the Admiral's living quarters — one 
long remembers American oysters and American ice- 
cream found in wartime France! — and that I then 
had a chance to see how this man's is a day-and-night 
job. 

It all began very easily and comfortably, and the 
Admiral, after a long day's work, spoke of how 
good it was to draw his chair close to the open fire. 
One of the three guests had to leave early, because, 
although he was our host's nephew, he had volun- 
teered as a common seaman and had to be aboard 
ship betimes. That orderly of the commander, a 
Lehigh graduate with six months' experience of the 
service, muttered in the hall : 

"This is the most democratic Navy I ever saw : an 
admiral helping a gob on with his coat !" 

But then we settled down for a quiet evening. 
The only mention of war was made when ^'Upstairs'* 
sent in the radio-caught German press-report for the 
day just finished — over there, we set store by that 
portion signed "Ludendorf" — and we had talked 
for perhaps half an hour of a dozen other things, 
of storms at sea, of strange lands, of the beauty of 



THE SPIDER IN HIS WEB 67 

the square rigger and, most of all, of home, when 
"Upstairs" again interrupted. It brought this tele- 
graphic message : 

"U. S. S. , with No. 1 hold flooded, draw- 
ing twenty-six feet forward, beached in exposed po- 
sition one thousand feet off Audierne breakwater, 
sand and rock bottom, at low water. Ship pounding 
heavily and filling. All compartments flooded. Two 
ten-inch pumps make no headway. Divers from 
ship report six feet of skeg carried away. Extent 
of damage to hull not known, but probably holes 
under holds 1, 2 and 4. Officer No. 188, assisted 
by subordinate, who is experienced wrecker, direct- 
ing salvage operations; but reports vessel can not 
be floated without salvage equipment, including 
boilers, pumps, divers and lighters. Advise.'* 

A night-and-day job, you see ! 



Balloons and hydroaeroplanes. 

Which in the heavens be^ 
And all you little dancing ships 

That dart about the sea. 
Remember, though you get away 

To any farthest place. 
There's some one thafs a-watching you 

From back here, at the Base. 

Suppose your rudder gets a-jam? 

There's gossip in a whale! 
Your oil-gauge doesn't register? 

The air's a tattletale! 
And zuoidd you try to hurry back 

And give the nezvs a chase? 
It's sure to beat you homezvard and 

To meet you at the Base. 

So when you've failed to spot the sub 

That limping homezvard goes, 
Or when you make your contact late. 

Don't say: "Nobody knozvs" ; 
But polish your excuses up 

And pull your wisest face: 
They'll be asking awkward questions, zvhen 

You see them at the Base. 

— Staff. 



CHAPTER V 

THE MEN BEHIND THE SHIPS 

COME back with me, please, to that suite of new- 
offices in this old town from which radiates the 
intricate web circumscribing the vast activities of 
the American Naval Forces based on France. There 
is adventure hidden there. 

The Admiral's workroom boasts the large, clean- 
swept desk of a chief -executive whose big business 
is systematically administered; you have the sense 
of a ship so well ordered that, though it moves with 
the highest efficiency and at top speed, the discipline 
is invisible, the machinery inaudible. It is when 
you pass into the next office, the office of the chief 
of staff, that you begin to see the well-greased 
wheels go round. There is a sign on its outer door : 

Chief of Staff and Staff Representative 
for 
Y. M. C. A., Y. M. H. A., K. of C. and 
Y. W. C. A. Workers 
and 
Itinerant Doctors, Detectives, Authors, Investi- 
gators, Commissioners, Naval Officers off 
Station, Ladies in Distress, 
Birds of Passage 
and 
The Closure of Saloons and Bars. 

Some light-minded fellow-officer put that sign 
69 



70 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

there, yet it is a laugh with the truth in it. Ad- 
miral Wilson's chief of staff does indeed have to 
take care of the matters detailed in the sign as well 
as anything else in his multifarious naval duties that 
turns up meanwhile. 

He checks and reports to the Admiral, for in- 
stance, all the bulletins of every sort of activity in 
our fleet's zones of operation — of which more later. 
Under his eye is kept a day-by-day record of the 
work done by every boat of every sort, a diary of 
each, rather like the books of a factory's time- 
keeper, so that neither men nor engines may be 
overworked to the point of inefficiency. He deals 
with all requests for leave — real comedies in the 
making and the bared bones of living tragedies. I 
recall one succinct petition : 

"Reason: Mother just sent to hospital in New 
York, fatally ill; wife about to have child." 

To him, too, falls for answer the bulk of the cor- 
respondence; I mention some of the general heads 
under which were grouped the mass of one day's 
documents that I saw in the wire basket on his desk : 

Installation of Ice-niachines. 
Replacement of Damaged Boats. 
Request for Communication Officer. 
A Question of Pay Accounts. 
Installation of Electric Leads through 

Gun Mounts. 
Ventilation Nets for Three Destroyers. 



THE MEN BEHIND THE SHIPS 71 

Requests for Leave. 

Orders with French Factories. 

Inspection of Armed Guards. 

Towing Winches Needed. 

Kite Balloons Required. 

Bill for Pumping Vidage Pits. 

Applications for Employment. 

Campaign Orders. 

Pilotage-Pay Disputes. 

Personal Records of Certain Officers. 

Permits for Truck Drivers. 

Construction of New Oil Tanks. 

As if this were not enough, the chief of staff has 
a good deal to do with the formulation and trans- 
mission of doctrine. He is a kind of college of 
cardinals, or, rather, a congregation of the Naval 
Holy See. 

Doctrine, I have elsewhere said, is not theological 
in the Navy, but it is to the Navy what the other sort 
of doctrine is to the Church, what policy is to state- 
craft. It is formulated to obviate the need of the 
repetition of general principles in each instance of 
individual movement, but it has to be kept constantly 
up-to-date in order to meet those changes of pro- 
cedure on the part of the enemy that are as con- 
stantly kept up-to-date in order to meet it. For in- 
stance, every time a convoy goes out, it is necessary 
that its commanders, and the commanders of its 
guardian ships, balloons and hydroaeroplanes, should 
each be informed of such developments in the coastal 
situation as might in any way affect any special 



72 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

commander; but, again to use the ecclesiastical fig- 
ure, it should be a work of supererogation to detail 
the general methods of the enemy and the general 
methods to resist or avoid them in their usual ex- 
pression. The aim of a convoy is such-and-such; 
therefore, these members should be so-and-so and 
those this-and-that — submarines have been attacking 
thus; therefore, transports ought to form in the fol- 
lowing manner, destroyers in the next following; 
whereas, in the event of onslaught or sinking, the 
first-named boats ought to maneuver in this fashion, 
the second-named in the other fashion. And so on. 
A business complicated and fluent, but weighty and 
important, abstract in the learning, concrete in its 
results, a matter of life and death. 

There is no need here to go into the Flag-Office or 
into the office of the stenographers; no need to tell 
of the filing-system and the card-catalogues. 
Enough that they are there, and that, though mod- 
ern business methods have tarnished the romance of 
naval warfare, as waged by Barry and John Paul 
Jones, they have applied the new polish of system, 
which only renders the basic romance the more ef- 
fective. Such inventions as wireless telegraphy 
have made this sort of thing imperative. 

The wireless telegraphy of these administrative 
offices is received in and sent out of a little room 
around the corner of the hall, into the common- 
place center of which dart, out of the air and over 
countless miles of sea, sharp cries of distress and 



JHE MEN BEHIND THE SHIPS 73 

brief chants of victory. All day and all night men 
with intent faces sit here over instruments always 
operating. They comb the sky, listening-in on three 
different wave-lengths, they receive requests for 
help and send out orders to give assistance far up 
in the English Channel and far out across the Bay 
of Biscay. 

And they hear other things than appeals. Once 
I entered the room with Commander Evans, the son 
of Robley Evans, Admiral. A worker spoke with- 
out raising his eyes from the key. 

*'Caught something, sir," he said. 

"What is it?" asked my companion. 

^'German message coming in, sir." 

**Code that our code-room knows?" 

"Yes, sir." 

We got it five minutes later. It was neatly typed 
and handed to the Admiral by his aide. And it was 
something that the Germans didn't want us to know. 

You might think that they became hardened, those 
operators, that they came to regard each call for 
help as some hospital internes regard a "case." They 
don't. 

"We got an S. O. S. from off the coast of Ice- 
land yesterday," a staff officer told me, "and the re- 
ceiving operator couldn't understand why we didn't 
dispatch a destroyer." 

Yet they are unusual men. One of them recently 
had a difficulty. 

"I inherited nine thousand dollars and a voice," 



74 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

he said. "I spent the money and four years in Paris 
on the voice. Then I enlisted when we came in the 
war, because I thought I ought to. Now, when it's 
too late, I get the one big chance of my life — I get 
an offer to sing in Paris at the Opera." 

He didn't lose that chance. He was promptly de- 
tailed from Base for day-work at our Embassy. You 
can hear him, if you are in Paris, singing two even- 
ings a week on the famous stage that is at once the 
envy and despair of every aspirant to operatic fame. 

Sometimes that radio-room can trace the cruise of 
a German submarine solely by the wirelessed reports 
of its victims. 

"In the old days, before we got the situation in 
hand," said an operator, *'we once got quickly suc- 
cessive reports of a series of sinkings. By the lati- 
tude and longitude sent us, and by the similarity of 
the methods of attack as well as by the times given, 
we could tell that these were the work of one single 
fellow. He knew the French coast as if it were his 
own parlor floor — they all do — and he was going 
right ahead at the steady rate of one sinking per 
night. We were worried, because we had a convoy 
due in, right across his general field. Then we got 
news of his eleventh sinking. We knew his type 
generally carries only a dozen torpedoes, and, you 
bet you, we were relieved." 

''Did you wait for his twelfth?" I asked. 

"We never heard of it," said the operator. 




A commander with the author at his right 




be 



.1 



THE MEN BEHIND THE SHIPS 75 

The officer that was with me whispered the end 
of the story : 'That fellow never got home." 

And he told me how he knew it. 

While he spoke, the operator was recording an- 
other sort of message. It was received in code, of 
course ; but decoded it read : 

"Blank convoy, ocean escort U. S. S. , ex- 
pects to arrive at latitude so-and-so, longitude so- 
and-so, 6 A. M.^ April 30th. Before reaching this 

point, it will be on a course degrees true. 

Course after passing this point degrees 

minutes. Speed, knots." 

This was a piece of routine work, but it is routine 
work of the most vital import. Every convoy keeps 
these offices constantly posted as to its progress, the 
reports are recorded in the daily chart in the chart- 
room, where the activities of submarines and the 
presence of mines are also marked down, and so 
every movement in the zone may be dealt with by or- 
ders sent out z'ia radio. 

Nearly all messages go and come in code, and 
there are at least a score of codes, each changed at 
frequent intervals. The code-room is between the 
executive offices and the operator's office, and only 
a pair of holes in the intervening walls offer com- 
munication. If the message is outgoing, it is written 
in plain English by one of the Admiral's staff, handed 
under the momentarily raised slide that elsewhile 
covers a wall hole and, in the code-room, translated 



76 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

into cipher, whereupon it is passed through the cor- 
responding hole to the radio-room for transmission. 
If the message is incoming, this process is reversed, 
and the message is translated by the code experts for 
the staff. 

You are familiar with library reading-rooms in 
which a printed sign commands "Silence," but you 
do not know the silence of that code-room unless you 
have been there — or have been, at one time or an- 
other, shut in a padded cell. Locks and keys, bolts 
and bars, combination safes and outdoor guards pro- 
tect it, and at its desks sit men with the most con- 
centrated faces in the world. One of these was in- 
troduced to me, and I saw him working. 

''We found him in the armed-yacht fleet," I was 
told. *'He'd enlisted as a common seaman. He is 
forty-odd years old, a Harvard graduate magna 
cum laude in the classics, speaks six modern lan- 
guages, is rich in his own right, is president of a fa- 
mous musical society, makes poetry and publishes 
his own volumes of verse. It turned out that he had 
written a couple of books on hieroglyphics and made 
a hobby of cryptograms. We thought he'd be just 
the man for this job — and he is. He has only one 
fault — when part of a received or intercepted mes- 
sage has been garbled in transmission, though we 
might easily guess the garbled portion by its con- 
nection with the rest of the context, he insists on at- 
tacking that first, as if it were a jigsaw puzzle, 
working it out, letter by letter, or sign by sign, and 



THE MEN BEHIND THE SHIPS 77 

writing a complete memorandum on just how each 

mistake must have occurred." 

And then I went into the chart-room — 

But the chart-room is a place for the instantaneous 

registration of romance-in-being. 

And that romance must be ''Continued in Our 

Next." 



Three Hello's and a "location"? 

Put the Old Man wise, you dub! 
(Three Hello's and a location 

Means a sub!) 

Ten of tis here in a lo x lo 

Room with a ceiling ten feet high. 
Rapid-reading radio-men, 

Listening ivhile the fleets go by. 
Murmurs, cries, appeals, and warnings, 

Nightmare-shrieks and fighting-jeers 
Clamor through the black receivers 

Clamped forever at our ears. 
Day and night, and nothing doing; 
Only routine rounds pursuing 

On the station; 
The7i, from somewhere mid- Atlantic, 
Shrill, staccato, helpless, frantic, 

Three Hello's and a location — 
Some poor devil (zvish him ivell!) 
Blozvn to bits and bound for Hell. 

'What a lovely summer morning!'* 

All the Old Man's callers say. 
(Here's a rammed barque off the Sables, 

Wants assistance right away.) . . , 
All except the watches sleeping 

Through the star-calm August flight — 
(Armen Archie's off St. Palais, 

Laying eggs of dynamite.) 
*'The Mil ford Haven convoy's caught !'*- 

The Drayton's on that trip. 
"Ariel's propeller's busted." — 

Tell the mother-ship. 
"Where is transport No. 80?" — 

"Chaser dj is gone." — 
"Where in thunder is the Harvard?" 

(Anchored dotun in Quiberon!) 



"Mines fresh placed in Channel f* — > 

Change the route for convoy 2! 
"There's a powder-boat a-hlazing" — 

Tell the chief: that's all we do. 
Tell the chief of staff, and hurry, 

So's he'll tell the Admiral; 
He'll give orders; we must listen 

For another crozvding call. 
Day and night, and nothing doing f 
Only routine rounds pursuing f 

But for us, zvhere zvotdd you he? 
Little, nervous men and sallow, 
We sit here and— "Allot 'Alio II 

'Allot 1 1 5:2; four-nine three t" 

Three Hello's and a "location"? 

Put the Old Man wise, you dub t 
(Three Hello's and a location 

Means a sub t) 

— The Dash-Dotters. 



CHAPTER VI 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 



/iBOUT that chart-room in the shore-offices at 
JTjl our Base-headquarters, from which are directed 
all the intricate activities of our Naval Forces along 
the wide coast of France and far out to sea. It is 
in the chart-room that there is registered, immedi- 
ately the sleepless radio sends word of it, each de- 
tected manifestation of the enemy afloat, each 
advance of each transport or cargo-ship, each move- 
ment of each American destroyer, armed yacht, 
observation-balloon and hydroaeroplane. 

There is no outside handle to the door of that 
apartment. When closed, it locks automatically — 
from the inside. The chart-room is no place for in- 
terruption. 

So soon as you enter it, you perceive why. 

It is well named. Charts — charts — charts. On 
the walls; on the huge drawing-table that nearly 
touches every one of the four walls. Comprehensive 
charts and detailed; all the coast and all the ocean, 
and then the coast and ocean seemingly yard by 
yard. There are the necessary instruments about; 
there are some technical books on the mantelpiece 
(but I caught sight of a Baudelaire among them!), 
and the door is adorned with a rogues' gallery of 

80 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 81 

photographs of German submarine-commanders, the 
notorious Otto Steinbrink and others — such prints 
as you see in poHce-stations, portraying escaped pris- 
oners and criminals with prices on their heads; — 
but that is not all, for the rest of it is charts and 
nothing else besides, each chart dotted by scores of 
little markers continuously on the move in accord- 
ance with information continuously received. 

First of all, in this room, there is the general 
chart. It occupies all the big table, and on it every- 
thing is marked, permanent and passing. Then there 
are the moonlight, tidal, aerial and weather charts 
and reports, drawn up weekly or daily as the case 
may be, by coastal or weather experts, the details 
noted periodically and transmitted in code, by radio, 
to our ships at sea. Also there, and also to be noted 
and transmitted, are daily messages from our Navy's 
representative in the French Ministry of Marine at 
Paris, giving all the news from all European waters 
and locating every mine known to be extant, every 
enemy submarine known to be active. 

"And that's not all," said Commander Kurtz, pre- 
siding. 

It wasn't. No purely local information — and the 
term *'local," in naval mouths, covers, it seems, miles 
and miles of coast and sea — no purely local infor- 
mation, I say, is considered good if more than two 
days old. It is Oslerized at the age of forty-eight 
hours. 

**You see," said this cicerone, **it's hard to make 



82 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

predictions from a daily chart, because submarines 
are, unfortunately, not oysters — they can move and 
do. So it's necessary for us to keep up, and send 
out, fleet-bulletins and information-slips from 
weekly and monthly charts which pretty well cover 
the area that each submarine is working in." 

He showed me the file of monthly charts, hung 
one above another on the wall. These deal with the 
American zone in French waters and the especial 
area for the safety of which Admiral Wilson and 
his staff and fleet are actually responsible. A dot 
marks the place of each success of each German 
submarine — every dot records the sinking of an 
Allied ship. That chart covering the first month 
of the present American regime looked like a fly- 
specked section of wall-paper in a long-unoccupied 
house that a new housewife has just moved into; 
the chart for the month preceding my first visit there 
resembled the same section of wall-paper after the 
good housewife has been at work on it. 

Remember always that the job of this office and 
its fleet is safely to get the scores of convoys in and 
out of the American zone. The chart-room's part 
becomes, then, obvious. Daily, at a given hour, its 
codifications of the sea-situation are sent out, in 
those ever-changing cryptograms, by the radio-corps 
to all Allied ships known to be in or approaching our 
region; and daily too, a certain series of warnings 
— though of a nature that can not help the enemy — 
are similarly thrown broadcast in plain English for 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 83 

the benefit of approaching neutral or friendly craft 
that have not notified us of their intentions. 

Enter messenger from the code-room (he enters 
every five minutes). He hands a typed sHp of pa- 
per to Commander Kurtz, or to whatever officer 
happens to be in charge at the moment. 

''Coastal Convoy No. 21 passes such and such a 
point." 

The pin symbolizing Coastal Convoy No. 21 is 
moved on a trio of charts. 

''Mine-area reported ten miles north of , be- 
tween such and such points." 

More pins are produced — gray ones — and stabbed 
into the parchments. 

Then : 

"Channel 10 barred to navigation." 

Next: 

"Submarine sighted in this latitude, that longi- 
tude." (Yellow pins this time; the yellow sign of 
smallpox!) 

"Coastal Convoy No. 30 passing light." 

"Coastal Convoy No. 21 now sighted twelve miles 
off ." 

So new pins go in, and old ones are moved for- 
ward or back — each pin labeled — and, meanwhile, 
the news thus recorded is being transmitted to the 
ships at sea, even to the transports bringing in our 
boys from far out upon the ocean. To watch the 
movements of those pins upon the ruled charts is like 
watching the progress of a football-game as it is re- 



84 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

corded on the automatic bulletin-board outside of a 
newspaper-office, except that there are a hundred 
balls "in play." 

The general chart is, you will recall, that upon the 
table. On the right-hand wall therefrom hangs that 
especially devoted to mines and submarines. We 
were one afternoon standing before the latter when 
there were handed in a pair of messages received 
within a few minutes of each other. Both told of 
an enemy submarine sighted; the two spots indi- 
cated were near together. 

The recording-officer whistled as he shoved home 
the yellow pins. 

"We've got a store-ship convoy coming in right 
there with one destroyer," he said; "and she's just 
about due." 

Quickly he verified his fears by a consultation of 
the general and convoy charts. He had been right. 
Generally there were more destroyers, but on this 
occasion some accident — some accident that, in or- 
dinary circumstances, would have been trivial — had 
upset the regular scheme. He set the radio-room 
to flashing out its warnings. 

There w^as an ugly ten minutes. 

"It's a double convoy," said the officer. "A lit- 
tle east of where that sub is, the British destroyers 
are to meet the fleet, cut out the ships bound for 
England and head them for home. Then our fel- 
low brings the rest in here." He paused — a mo- 
ment. Then he added : "Or tries to." 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 85 

The code-room messenger came in. We grabbed 
his slip of paper : 

"Warning acknowledged." 

Again we waited. Presently: 

"Have made contact with British destroyers as 
per previous orders. They have cut out (here fol- 
lowed the number) ships and are proceeding." 

We breathed a little easier. Still easier we 
breathed when we heard that our destroyer and its 
wards were safe within the harbour's submarine-nets. 
It was then that there came a fourth message; it 
came from the British portion of the convoy : they 
had been attacked thirty minutes after leaving the 
American zone and entering the English and had 
lost a ship and half of its crew. 

"But all the Allied navies are doing good work," 
the recording-officer said. He expatiated on what 
the French have accomplished — "miracles," he 
called them — in spite of material reduced before the 
war. "And," he said, "when the big need for land- 
fighters arose in the crisis of Mons, the French Navy 
sent thousands of its sailors — there aren't any bet- 
ter in the world — to shoulder muskets inland." He 
went on to speak of the British boats and their tri- 
umphs, but of these things Americans have already 
been informed. My part, here and now, is to write 
of the Americans in French waters, and I record 
one out of many scores of instances of American as- 
sistance to a British ship in these waters only because 
it happened then to come under my direct notice. 



86 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

We were in the chart-room, plotting out, as its 
reports came in, the progress of an American con- 
voy. That convoy was still well out at sea; it had 
not entered what is technically the Danger Zone, 
and the guardian American destroyers, dispatched 
from this port to meet it, were not yet due to "make 
contact." The radio-room received a warning from 
the English observation-service ; it was decoded and 
brought to us : an unexpected enemy submarine had 
just been reported by a British transport carrying 
Canadian troops, far out there and in the course 
that our convoy had been directed to pursue. Imag- 
ine, if you can, the rush to recode and transmit this 
news, with orders of a change of course to the con- 
voy and a new contact-point to the destroyers. It 
was done, however, in fifteen minutes, and the con- 
voy and destroyers met and came, by a fresh route, 
safe into port. 

Of all these things the chart-room keeps a detailed 
diary, precisely such a log as a ship's master keeps 
on his voyage. It is full of tragic narratives, that 
communication-book, but of late its stories show an 
increasing tendency toward the "happy ending." 
There are even recorded cases where a prowling 
submarine seems to have run away merely because 
its wireless-operators overheard our buzzing mes- 
sages about them and knew thereby, even if they 
could understand no more, that we must be sending 
our destroyers to their neighborhood. 

Take, for example, this bit of "intercepted log" : 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 27 

The date is somewhere In late April. The first 
part was ''caught" by our radio-men; the whole was 
duly entered in this chart-room's diary. I change 
only the names of the boats involved. 

''1:15 p. M. — British merchant-ship Emma 
sends : 'To all British men-of-war. Am being 
chased and shelled by enemy submarine, longitude 
, latitude .' 

"2 :20 p. M. — Message from the Emma has been 
picked up by the U. S. Destroyer Lawrence, which 
replies to the Emma: 'What is your speed?' 

"2:25 p. M. — Emma answers: 'Eight knots on 
a course of by .' 

"2 :30 p. M. — Destroyer Lawrence, which is with 
Convoy No. 99, signals its fellow-destroyers that 
are with that convoy to remain on that duty and 
adds that it itself is 'going to the aid of the Emma/ 

"2 :32 p. M. — Lawrence radios Base-headquarters : 
'Am going to aid of British merchantman Emma, 
which is being shelled and chased by enemy sub- 
marine at longitude , latitude .' 

"2:45 p. M. — Lawrence reports to Base-head- 
quarters : 'Am on my way.' 

"3 p. M. — Emma radios: 'Submarine has ceased 
firing and submerged.' " 

Either that submarine read the message, or else 
it saw the smoke of the approaching Lawrence. 
The point is that that attack was discontinued, and 
the British ship saved. 

We were in the chart-room early one morning. 



88 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

A convoy bearing thousands of American troops, 
called for because of the big German offensive that 
began in March of 1918, was due at a given spot on 
the ocean at 6 a. m. The destroyers that were to 
bring it in had set forth. Atmospheric conditions 
were bad for wireless-work, and communication had 
first become faulty and w^as then lost altogether, an 
event that does not happen often, but is most dis- 
concerting v/hen it does occur. 

Then, without warning, radio-communication 
from another source than our destroyers or the con- 
voy became active. A German submarine was re- 
ported at a point south of that at which our convoy 
was soon to arrive, but uncomfortably close. 

We tried to get the destroyers, and failed. 

We tried to get the convoy : no answer. 

Again news of the submarine. It was going 
north. It was nearer the convoy. Orders were 
shouted. Messages shot from chart-room to cypher- 
room, and from cypher-room to the room in which 
the staff's wireless-operators work. 

A third report of the submarine. Having pro- 
ceeded still farther north, it was seen by a big French 
fisherman, who had been blown out of his course, 
almost at the spot at which the convoy was due. 

You could hear the loud snapping of the wireless 
from our wireless-room. It was like the cracking 
of the whip in the muliteer's song in Cavalleria 
Rusticana. But it was echoless : we got no reply. 

Ten minutes passed. . . . 



r.f ^ 












H pq 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 89 

Fifteen. . . . 

Twenty : 

We sat there, prepared for the convoy's S. O. S. 
that would mean a hideous disaster. 

Twenty-five minutes : 

Would even so much as the S. O. S. reach us? 
If we could not get the convoy, could it get us? 
Could it get word to the destroyers? We came to 
the point where, accepting catastrophe as inevitable, 
we hoped only that the destroyers might be called 
forward in time to rush up and save from the water 
a few of those thousands of soldiers' lives. 

Then came another report of the submarine: it 
was a little to the northward. 

Still another : It was miles to the north. 

It was a submarine homeward-bound. The con- 
voy was safe! 

Much of the work of Base-headquarters may have 
seemed to you, as I have written it, dull matter, 
mere stupid routine, although, in reality, it is the 
grinding mill in which, if one of the hundreds 
of cogs slips, a ship may go down, and your 
boys with it — or supplies or ammunition that 
was destined otherwise to save your boys from 
disaster. But to be there in those offices, and 
especially to stand in the chart-room as the mes- 
sages slip in through the air for registration and 
action, is as if you were standing beside the desk 
of a news-editor in a newspaper-office at Los An- 
geles during the big San Francisco fire. 



90 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Often records of the progress of a dozen ships 
are being received at the same time. On a May 
morning, from five or six such records, I disen- 
tangled this one. Again I change only the names : 

''10:28 A. M. — Message from the French mer- 
chant-ship Victoire: 'S. O. S. 473, iSO. Being tor- 
pedoed thirty miles west of .' " (It was a point 

just outside of our zone, and, just at first, one which 
we had no destroyers free to send to.) 

*'10 :30 A. M. — Same message regarding same ship, 
transmitted by other ships that had picked it out of 
the sky. 

*' 10:47 A. M. — From the Victoire: 'Torpedo 
missed, but submarine has risen and is shelling us. 
A shot just missed us by thirty metres.' 

''10:52 A. M.— From Victoire: 'No. 1 S. O. 

S.; SS. SS. Being gunned. Latitude , 

longitude . Speed, ten knots.' 

"11:15 A. M.— U. S. S. Perry, to the Victoire: 
'Keep on that course. Am heading for you.' 

"11 :55 A. M.— From Victoire: 'N. S. O. S. 

SS. SS. Being gunned. New position, 

degrees, minutes, N. ; degrees, min- 
utes, W.' 

"12:45 p. M. — U. S. S. Perry to Base-headquar- 
ters : 'Have rescued Victoire.' " 

What has our fleet done to change the submarine 
situation in our zone along the west coast of France? 
Those monthly charts and their decreasing fly- 
specks tell the story. Here it is in plain figures : 



ADVENTURE BY WIRELESS 91 

Number of vessels 
Month. sunk by submarines. 

October, 1917 24 

November 13 

December 4 

January, 1918 9 

February 1 

March 

Since the March of the present year, there have, 
of course, been some submarine successes, but the 
general toll exacted by the underseas boats has been 
kept at a minimum. 

Largely, that is the result of our destroyers' work, 
assisted by the observations made by hydroaero- 
planes and observation-balloons, and of the direction 
of such work from the Admiral's office. It is a 
pretty good record, thank you, as it stands. There 
is excellent reason to believe that it will soon be 
even better. 

Said one of the men that ought to know : 

*'0f course, I want the war to end soon — if it 
can end soon conclusively in our favor — but, from a 
purely scientific point of view, I could find it in my 
heart to wish for a year's continuance. Why? Be- 
cause I believe that, if we manage things properly, 
we can, in twelve months, wipe the submarine from 
the ocean, can make it a useless and out-of-date war- 
weapon — as much out-of-date as the once famous 
'Wooden Walls' of England — by the autumn of 
1919." 



92 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

For my part, when he said that, I could have 
found it in my heart to wish his desire already ac- 
complished. For I was going to sea in a destroyer 
on the evening of the day on which he spoke ! 



Did you ever go a-sail astride a rabid, ructions ram? 
O, lamb! 
(Rattle him down! — Rattle his bones! 
Rattle him dozvn, I say!) 
Where you gave up all your supper, yet you never gave 
a damn? 
(Rattle him down! — Rattle his bones! 
Rattle him down, I say!) 
Well, that's the life Fm livin', that's the kind o' guy 

I am: 
I'm a seahorse-bareback rider for your three-ring Un- 
cle Sam. 
(Battle him dozvn! — Battle him down! 
Wrastle his last month's pay!) 

Take his coin, an' mine — an' then. 

Good night for him an' me; 
For we're both destroyer-men 

Puttin' out to sea. 

We're the Turbine Kids with watertight compart- 
ments 2Q! 

(Oh, fine! — 
Rattle us down! — Battle our bones! 
Trundle us anyzvheres!) 
We carry fuel to cart us from N'York to Palestine; 
(Rattle us down — Battle our bones! 
Trundle us anywheres!) 
We've got a cruising-radius that covers all the brine: 
If you think o' takin' service, zvhy it's us you'd better 
jine ! 
(Battle us down! — Rattle us dozvn! 
Who in the thunder cares?) 

Here's the rest o' zvhat zve had; 

Take all our ready tin; 
We're go in' with the tin- pans, lad, 

Bringin' doughboys in! 

— Tin-Pan Thomas. 



PART THREE 
Scotching the Submarine 

CHAPTER VII 

IN THE NAME OF THE LORD I WILL DESTROY THEM 

A THICK volume of typewritten manuscript lay 
^ on the desk in the Captain's cabin. 

The pile of manuscript was entitled "Doctrine." 
The passage I read contained the principles that 
were to direct the voyage on which we were about to 
embark. 

"This boat/* said the Captain, "is in command. 
With a number of other destroyers, we are to take 
a homeward bound group of supply- ships through 
the Danger Zone. Out there, when we've said good- 
by to our 'empties' and sent our regards to Broad- 
way, I'll open a sealed envelope given me this after- 
noon at the Admiral's office. In it I'll find orders to' 
proceed with my destroyers to some point or other 
out at sea where, at a given time, we will meet an 
incoming convoy of troopships. These we must 
bring safe to France.'* 

He was a tall, lean man, this Captain Fremont of 
94 



I WILL DESTROY THEM 95 

the W , with a thin face, good-natured but 

firm, and the most alert eyes that I have ever seen. 
Like all the commanders of destroyers I have met, 
he had the quick gestures and impatience at delays 
of any sort, which correspond with the mechanism 
of the destroyer itself. There were little lines about 
his mouth, the lines drawn by a responsibility real- 
ized and met, but never allowed to crush, and, 
though he was still in his late thirties, his dark hair, 
as with that of most men who live afloat, was 
touched with silver as if sprinkled by spray. He 
had commanded one of that fleet of destroyers 
which were America's first offering to the world war 
— to the English inquiry, on their arrival, as to when 
they would be ready to fight, they answered : 

"WE ARE READY NOW." 

I was to have the Captain's cabin for my own — the 
Navy does nothing by halves — and the Captain was 
donning his working clothes and throwing duplicates 
to me. 

Most of us have imagined the commander of a 
United States fighting-boat as going upon active 
service erect in the tight-fitting uniform with its 
pocketless jacket and high collar that looks so well 
on dress occasions, but that the officers of six or 
more years' standing are now hoping to decide by 
ballot to exchange for a more comfortable style for 
sea- wear. We have mental pictures of Farragut 
lashed to his mast as if he were going on parade. 



96 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Nothing could be more unlike the officers of a de- 
stroyer setting out to sea. The Captain, and every- 
body under him, wears hip boots ; two, or even three, 
sweaters; a fur-Hned reefer, and a Hfe-preserver. 
There is not much left of the curves of the human 
form divine, but the result looks uncommonly like 
business. 

"Got some woolen underclothing?" asked the Cap- 
tain. **It's always best to be wearing flannels if you 
go over." 

To "go over," I gathered, meant to be flung into 
the sea. I said I scarcely expected the experience. 

"Oh, we never know at this job," said the Captain, 
"and so we always go prepared." 

As you prepared, I found, so you remain. When 
you sleep, it is in your clothes, no matter how long 
you are at sea. The officers have other things to do 
than shave ; the tiny shower-bath, forward under the 
bridge, is used only when you have returned to har- 
bour. 

"Friend of mine, commanding the destroyer 

N ," said my Captain, "tried a shower on the last 

trip out. A periscope was sighted, and he had to go 
on the bridge in his suds. Uncomfortable. Cold, 
too." 

He left me. I heard shouted orders and the ring- 
ing of many bells. Immediately, the destroyers first 
herding their big charges into the open, and then 
preceding, following and flanking them, we got un- 
der way. 



I WILL DESTROY THEM 97 

If I were to attempt a technical description of our 
boat, I should begin by saying that it was oil-burning 
and then proceed with some such table as this : 

Length over all, 315 feet, 3 inches; 
Beam, 29 feet, 8 inches ; 
Draft, 9.4; 

Displacement, 1095 tons; 
Watertight compartments, 29; 
Fuel-oil, ditto, 10; 
Fuel-oil capacity, 92,687 gallons; 
Tubular boilers, 4; 
Masts, 70 feet; 
Horse power, 17,000; 
Maximum speed, 32 knots; 
Four-inch rapid-fire guns, 4 ; 
Twenty-one-inch twin torpedo-tubes, 4; 
Men, 120; 
Officers, 15; 

Four Parson's marine steam turbines, 
with reduction-gear propeller-shafts. 

Incorrectly stated though it probably is, all that 
might mean much to a technician. To me it means 
little. Here is what I know and what I saw : 

The boat is oil-burning and has a tremendous 
cruising-radius. She can go the whole way from 
Brest to New York and back at twelve knots an hour 
without taking on a fresh supply of fuel. In these 
particulars she is like all of her type, of which 
there are too few. Upon necessity I have known 
her to rush through the water as an express-train 
rushes over its rails. Smokeless, save when smoke 
is wanted, she can instantly hide herself in a greasy 



98 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

cloud as completely as a cuttlefish concealing its 
whereabouts in its own secretions. She turns on her 
toes, answering her helm as a horse answers the 
response of a spurred huntsman. 

Before I came to realize her capabilities, the de- 
stroyer on which I found myself looked, to my 
landsman's eyes, a grotesquely unwieldly creature. 
As we came aboard, her camouflage made her seem 
a sea-clown. She carries boats for about one-tenth 
of her complement. Her iron main-deck, at the 
stern of which was the high-piled slide of the depth- 
charges, is, mostly, unrailed ; it is not five feet above 
the waterline; it is not more than thirty feet wide 
at its widest, and, at sea, it is generally and peril- 
ously awash. Forward, with an effect of topheavi- 
ness, is a four-story building: the wardroom and 
officers' quarters, surmounted by the glassed-in- 
charthouse, topped by the bridge and capped by the 
foretop and flashlight station. Below, she is as full 
of machinery as a watch — a miracle of compactness. 
If you imagine a watchcase loaded with its works 
and then every cranny filled with high explosives, 
you get this boat's relative proportions of gear and 
death. Her duty takes her, in the unlighted night, 
dashing among her mighty and cumbersome 
charges; yet, with plates that are of mere pasteboard 
thickness, she carries what the lightest collision 
might fire to instant life, blasting her to such bits 
that no trace of her would remain. 

The dangers that hourly encompass our destroy- 



I WILL DESTROY THEM 99 

ers operating these waters are fourfold. They are 
submarines, mines, collisions and the perils of a 
treacherous coast. 

The submarines ? Well, in British waters there is 
a group of American destroyers known as the 
"Hunting Fleet," which is sent out to areas where 
hostile underseas craft are reported to be operating 
and is told to attack subs. The duties of convoying 
destroyers in regard to submarines are made evident 
in that passage from the "Doctrine" to which I have 
referred; they must, first of all, protect the convoy, 
but, precisely to do this, they must ram or gun such 
an enemy as appears on the surface and drop depth- 
charges over such as submerge — drop and get away 
with all possible speed lest they be blown to bits 
themselves in the process. The destroyer is a bad 
mark for a submarine's torpedo, but, once in a 
while, that mark is hit, and then the destroyer's ex- 
plosives themselves do the rest : there follows — 
simply a disappearance. The Jacob Jones was a case 
decidedly in point. After eighteen hours in the win- 
ter water, some of its crew were found keeping 
themselves alive, and comparatively warm, by turn- 
ing over an elliptical raft and, themselves in the 
water, singing, Where Do We Go From Here? 

The whole ship had disappeared within four min- 
utes ; but, during that time, one lad on deck, instead 
of trying to save himself, had struggled with the 
fastenings of a motor-boat, which would, if 
launched, be of inestimable rescue- value, and, to 



100 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

hasten his task, was standing in the boat itself. An 
officer, just as the four minutes drew to a fatal close, 
was pulling himself out of the water to a bit of 
WTeckage. When the depth-charges began to take 
final effect, the officer saw the seaman in the motor- 
boat throw up his hands — saw the two sides of the 
motor-boat bend upwards and imprison him and 
then sink. 

As, with blackened lips and chattering teeth, the 
survivors were lined up ashore, the officer who had 
seen that sailor's gallantry reported the act as one of 
extreme bravery, for which, though dead, the boy 
who had gone down in the motor-boat should have 
his name cited. When the roll was called, the "dead" 
boy answered, *'Here !" 

He was asked how it happened that he was alive. 

"I felt myself going down and down," he said, 
"and I kept holding my breath. When I knew I 
couldn't hold my breath an instant longer, I made up 
my mind that I would hold it an instant longer, and 
then, somehow, I seemed to be shot up to the sur- 
face." 

Perhaps an explosion in the submerging destroyer 
tossed the lad back to life. At that, it was his will- 
power that saved him. In the little boats on an open 
ocean, the men themselves say that survival often 
depends upon one's will. 

"Why, one man," I was told of another occasion, 
"was one of the finest specimens of manhood I ever 
saw. Physically he hadn't a flaw. But, hours be- 




CO 



I WILL DESTROY THEM 101 

fore we sighted land, he gave up and collapsed in 
the bottom of the boat. We had to threaten to shoot 
him to make him take an oar. And yet some men 
that, to look at, you'd think would just naturally 
give up, decide they'll pull through — and they do; 
that's all.'* 

The presence of mines is wirelessed, when dis- 
covered, both directly to such ships as are within 
call and to the base, whence the news is again dis- 
tributed. But discovery depends upon at least one 
explosion. That may happen safely in the drag 
wires of a sweeper patrolling a suspected area, or it 
may happen, less safely, to a merchant ship — or a 
destroyer. Then there is no destroyer left to do 
any reporting. 

Collisions present a danger that I have already in- 
dicated. My Captain put it succinctly : 

"Ships that pass in the afternoon," said he, "are 
more comfortable than ships that pass in the night." 

As for the coast in our French zone of operations, 
it is mostly the coast of the notorious Bay of Biscay. 
The sea romances of your boyhood — of Marryat, 
of W. H. G. Kingston and Clark Russell — were full 
of it. Its storms are famous — and infamous; its 
tides tremendous; lancelike rocks spring out of 
deep water, and about them swirl currents that run 
at from two to seven sea-miles an hour. Our de- 
stroyers take, on every cruise, a pilot licensed by the 
French Navy; he is generally a Breton-born, of the 
best race of sailors in the world; his government has 



102 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

demanded ten years of schooling for him before 
conferring its Hcense or diploma, and ten years of 
schooHng in France is harder than ten years in 
America; he has this coast by heart; he is friends 
with each tree along the shore; he knows when a 
seaside cottage is repainted and, at the first glimpse 
of a rock stabbing out of a twenty-four-hour fog, 
will call that rock by a pet name. Yet even the best 
of pilots, working under the most capable of cap- 
tains, can not always save a ship against the contrary 
strength of a Biscay storm, and the descending wa- 
ter brings, at such times, a peculiar danger to de- 
stroyers. 

I recall one case in point. The seas were rushing 
over the main deck. They beat on the lashed depth- 
charges. Each charge held enough explosive to 
wipe the boat from the ocean's top — and one of them 
broke loose. 

Instantly a sailor had vaulted upon it. Its loos- 
ened cording in his hands, he sat astride of that 
rolling keg of death as a cow-boy keeps his seat on 
a kicking broncho. 

*'Hey !" he yelled to his comrades. "Stand by and 
lend a hand ! It won't do for this colt to get away 
from me !" 

Now, it was my assignment to see the destroyers 
that live this sort of life, take out through the Dan- 
ger Zone "empties" that the tonnage-lust of the Ger- 
mans hungers to sink, and meet at some nameless 



I WILL DESTROY THEM 103 

dot upon the ocean, and bring in, a convoy of trans- 
ports laden with your sons and brothers. There is 
no use pretending that I looked forward to my job 
without apprehension. 



A hundred men in a watchcase ship. 

We fellows put to sea, 
With a place to sleep (if your foot don't slip!) 

And a cargo of T. N. T. 
(A place to sleep — when there's time to sleep!) 
And zve eat when zve get the chance — 
On a boat that goes 
On its toes 
And nose 
In a dangerous dervish-dance: 
Dodging the subs and the convoy's blows, 
We're bringing your boys to France! 

Our port is a point on the ocean's top, 

A decimal far afloat; 
We sail to a specified salty drop 

To meet a beam of a boat — 
A beam of a boat and a couple more 

And four or five besides. 
Each loaded down zvith an army-corps, 
A-bucking the untamed tides; 

Jammed and crammed in a sardine-tin, 
Periscope-crazy and sick as sin, 
Here are the doughboys coming in — 
Our job's to bring 'em in! 

They're half of them dotty and all of 'em scared, 
And, oh, but they cheer as zve, 

In our cockleshells 

Atop the swells. 
Bob out of a snarling sea: 

There's naught too good 

For our brotherhood 



When the Danger Zone's to span; 

But once ashore, 

Ifs "One knock more, 
For he's only a sailor rnanr 

(O, 
Gusl) 
"The soldier starts his brave career; 
He never knozvs a touch of fear" — 
But who in the hell was it brought him here? 

US I 

— Bringing 'Em In. 



CHAPTER VIII 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 



WHEN all the story of this war is told, it will 
be seen that, of our Navy's part, the great 
work was the work done by the destroyers. The 
Mosquito Fleet is more picturesque, and no less 
brave; no less brave and absolutely necessary are 
the men of the transport service, the mine-sweepers, 
the hydroaeroplanes and the observation-balloons. 
But it is to facilitate the task of the destroyers that 
nearly all these operate. In the body of our Navy, 
as constituted for the purposes of the world-conflict 
up to the present time, the destroyers are the back- 
bone. Only a Melville or a Dana could do them jus- 
tice, and if I have written more of other branches of 
the service, it is because I am sadly conscious of be- 
ing neither a Dana nor a Melville. 

"Always proceed with a scientific irregularity and 
remember that the enemy sees everything that you 
do.'' 

On this principle the destroyers work in their care 
of each convoy. Roughly speaking, of course, there 
are certain other facts to be remembered. For in- 
stance : 

1. The speed of the convoy must be ordered in — 
such and such a way. 

106 



f» 




liiffiifjb. 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 107 

2. It is well to have the commanding destroyer do 
— so and so; the other destroyers doing — this and 
that. 

3. A submarine's best position for attack is — etc., 
etc. ; therefore, and so forth. 

The guardians know that unseen enemy eyes are 
ever upon them, and that too closely to follow any 
hard and fast rules is to invite attack. So maneu- 
vers are unremitting. 

They are ordered by every sort of signal, and each 
order must be executed instantly if collision is to be 
avoided. There is the radio for dark as well as dis- 
tance; the flash-lamp for twilight; the two-arm or 
two-flag semaphore for close quarters by day and 
the unbroken procession of parti-colored bits of 
bunting, each bit a letter or a phrase, which bobs to 
the foretop — ''Rot! Quack!" our Captain called 
them off by the queer names assigned to each, every 
name beginning with the letter required and all de- 
vised so that the man who pulls the halliard will not 
confuse letters of a similar sound. 

There is the smoke signal, too. A quick manipu- 
lation of the blower in the engine-room, and a boat is 
hidden — and stifled. Its mention leads one to the 
impenetrable smoke-screen, now in use in every navy 
of the world. 

"I was the innocent originator of that form of 
defense," said our Captain. *T was commanding one 
of a bunch of oil-burning destroyers off Long Island. 
We were in a war-game and waiting to 'attack' 



108 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

some dreadnoughts. Something happened to one 
of my blowers, and we were nearly strangled and al- 
together hidden from our flagship. She signalled 
me a severe call-down, but when the dreadnoughts 
appeared, we were all ordered to repeat by design 
what I had done by accident. It won us that action 
in the war-game and passed into doctrine." 

You no sooner set foot on one of our destroyers 
than you realize that, save for them, there could be 
no security for any of our soldiers sent to France, 
and your particular destroyer has no sooner cleared 
the harbour than you begin to wonder whether the 
chief part of the crew's education isn't devoted to 
the art of walking on the hands with the feet in air. 
That kindly destiny which created me immune from 
seasickness did not prevent my knowing that I was 
sailing in a topsy-turvy craft, and I never knew a 
type so consistently uncomfortable as this one. 

Do you think waves look high from the rail of 
your transport. Private Doughboy? Wait till you 
are rolled across the main deck of a destroyer and 
vainly try to look over hissing crests that arch the 
foretop, cover the zenith and break upon the very 
center of the vessel. Now you will be frantically 
clinging to a rope, while your slender boat, breathing 
like an Alpine climber, stands on its propellers and 
staggers up a blank wall of angry blue ; comes a mo- 
ment when the destroyer is dizzily balanced on an 
inch of water with yawning precipices before and 
behind; follows, down the former of these, a tobog- 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 109 

gan-plunge, which you are sure will drive your nose 
into the bottom of the sea. The waves that she 
doesn't go over, she goes through ; those which don't 
break above her pound the hull with blows that rat- 
tle her plates and set the soles of your feet atingle. 
She rolls so much that her main deck, designed to 
be only a few feet above still water, is under the 
surface; she has a pitch of incredible degrees, and 
there are times when, infuriated by the onrush of a 
particularly high swell, she will stand on her nose 
and hit it with her tail. 

"Do you have any cases of seasickness?" I asked. 

**0h, yes," said the Captain. *'Some men are sea- 
sick every time they come out in a destroyer. If 
they merely have an acute case on each trip, they 
just have to grin and bear it and go about their work, 
but when it comes to chronic hemorrhages, as it does 
in many cases, the fellow's no use to us, and we have 
to get him assigned to land-duty or put on one of 
the big battle-ships." 

Eating is a mere matter of skill. I can easily 
imagine a destroyer rolling and pitching so swiftly 
that one movement will neutralize another and the 
food remain stationary on its table. In our case, 
space was so limited that there were bunks along 
either end of the wardroom — bunks railed so that 
the sleepers would not be tossed out. We sat on 
these and, our knees elevated by the rail, could just 
protect our plates in the hollow of our laps. One 
day a junior officer, whose physician was dieting 



no OUR NAVY AT WORK 

him, hesitated about a plate that a reeling steward 
offered. Were peas carbohydrates? Before a deci- 
sion could be reached, peas and steward were 
through the open door and rolling toward the depth- 
charges astern. 

The crew's quarters on a destroyer are not pro- 
portionately more confined than the officers', but they 
are not roomier, either ; yet, though there is no cod- 
dling in our Navy, a pupil in a young ladies' semi- 
nary is not better looked after than a bluejacket. 
His clothing is ordered each morning in accord with 
the prevailing weather conditions; if he is on duty 
at meal time, his food is kept warm for him in the 
galley. I remember one seaman's answer to a ques- 
tion as to what he had for supper. 

"Beans an' jam," he said. "I thought they might 
'a' given us potatoes. Somehow jam don't go well 
with just beans." 

I repeated this to the Captain. I thought it mildly 
amusing. 

Not so the Captain. He had the cook up instantly, 
for an accounting. It appeared that my sailor had 
forgotten to mention bread, sardines and one or two 
other items of the menu. Beans had not been, in 
his mind, a substitute for potatoes : he could remem- 
ber nothing but the lack of the thing he most 
wanted. 

It is only after supper that the commander of a 
destroyer in charge of a convoy gets a few moments 
of leisure. Then the radio-room, which is forever 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 111 

sending him messages received, sends him the inter- 
cepted communiques, including the German, and he 
may read the Navy Department's reports on sewage- 
disposal in the York River, which, since he is still 
officially attached to a fleet a part whereof is sta- 
tioned in America, punctiliously come to him. Later 
he must climb to the charthouse, under the bridge. 
When he isn't on the bridge itself, he is in the chart- 
house, all night long. Such sleep as he can snatch 
he snatches there, and every little while a sailor 
comes to bale out the inches-deep water that a ran- 
dom wave has flung forward through the always 
open door. 

My first night with the outgoing convoy proved 
typical. Orders to the ships that we were guiding 
snapped hither and yon. On a big table, a younger 
officer plotted out our course, set down the bits of 
news now and again wirelessed from the Base, and 
calculated to a nicety just how certain we were to 
collide with some northbound or southbound convoy 
before morning. About once every thirty minutes, 
one of our big, blundering wards would all but run 
us down, and we would have to spin about and get 
away with a suddenness that took our legs from un- 
der us. 

"Schooner reports she's been torpedoed at such 
and such latitude, such and such longitude." 

The Captain would study the bit of paper handed 
him: 

"That looks like Hans Rose's work/* 



112 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

He could tell a real torpedo from a false alarm, 
even on paper. 

''Every transport that comes in," he said, "has 
seen subs. To hear those tales, you'd think subma- 
rines were as thick out here as rails on a fence. I've 
had them give me stories about seeing four and sink- 
ing two when there wasn't one within one hundred 
miles. A submarine submerging makes a mark in 
the water like a bass snapping at a fly ; a torpedo has 
a wake that the porpoise loves to imitate. At this 
time of year these waters become very phosphor- 
escent, and then things look queer." 

They certainly must. I copied the formal report 
of one of the "submarine-sightings" as made by a 
transport-master just ashore from his first transport- 
voyage. It ran — I change only the ships' names — 
thus: 

"The Athena, with guns loaded forward and aft, 
was proceeding in convoy to France with numerous 
other craft. The gun-crews were all at their sta- 
tions and the lookout carefully kept ; the Captain was 
on the bridge and had scarcely slept for several days. 

On — th March, about 4 p. m., being hours 

from the coast and the escort expected soon, a tor- 
pedo was sighted to starboard, one hundred and fifty 
yards away, running part of the time submerged, 
then jumping clear of the sea, like a large fish chas- 
ing its prey. We blew six whistles as a warning to 
every one in the convoy, then fired a salvo from the 
forward gun. One of the shots, which were fired 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 113 

directly into the rays of the sun, struck fair on the 
bridge of our convoy-mate, the Bernadetie, who had 
not the time to turn. The shell did not explode, but 
passed over the ship, close beside the legs of the 
Captain, mate and officer of the deck, who were all 
on the bridge at this part of the trip. The torpedo 
having vanished, and it appearing from the action of 
the Bernadette's captain that the shot had angered 
him, the Captain of the Athena ordered *Cease Fir- 
ing!'" 

There was a brief memorandum appended to this 
report. It ran as follows : 

"Other commanders declare torpedo a fish. Mate 
of Bernadette deposes he saw neither torpedo nor 
shot, but was near when something fell." 

My destroyer Captain, in hurried moments be- 
tween duties, had a good deal to say of real sub- 
marines. 

"There are two that have been working about 
here pretty regularly," he told me. "The boys call 
one of them Armen Archie and the other Penmarch 
Pete. But the worst damage the subs have done is 
off the Irish coast. I was stationed there for a while. 
One day I saw a Russian square-rigger, with three 
tons of Australian flour go down five miles from 
shore. In such cases, we have to stand by and pick 
up survivors; we give each rescued man a slug of 
whiskey and a bath in bichloride: the whiskey re- 
vives him, and the bichloride — well, our boats would 
swarm if we didn't use that. Once in a while we're 



114 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

almost too quick — I saw one sub submerge before 
my eyes with all her fake sails set." 

He told of another. Around it was dumped a 
barrage of depth-charges. A week later, damaged, it 
hobbled into a Spanish port and was interned there. 

"There are three official grades of anti-subma- 
rine successes," he said : "absolute, probable and pos- 
sible. To prove the first, you must bring in a Ger- 
man; for the second you must produce at least a 
piece of rigging; the third you are credited with if 
the crew's evidence of oil and wreckage mounting 
to the surface is convincing. The Admiral himself 
conducts the investigation as soon as you make 
port." 

This is not the most comfortable sort of conver- 
sation to precede bed when you are on a destroyer 
with a convoy in the Danger Zone. My dreams on 
the first night out were troubled. The boat made 
noises such as used to be made when, back home, the 
servants carried the table-silver up-stairs and bumped 
the baskets against the banisters in passing. The ship 
buckled and plunged and rolled ; to lie on the high- 
springed bunk was to risk a broken neck ; that must 
have been merely for show, anyhow; one had to 
seek the low bench and hang fast to that — and the 
effect was that of rather rough bob-sledding down a 
very long hill. Besides, the codes were kept in the 
Captain's cabin, where I was housed, and these had 
every little while to be consulted. Out of the walls 
where tubes led to the bridge, came muffled calls 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 115 

compared with which President Wilson's "voices in 
the air" are happy. It was somewhere near to dawn 
when I decided to go on the bridge. 

Did you ever have a nightmare in which, amid 
splashing spray, you walked a pitching slack-wire 
suspended above Niagara Falls? Climbing, in 
darkness, to the bridge of a destroyer is like that, 
and, once arrived, you are still in a shower-bath — the 
water is flung up there every time the boat hits a 
"big one." The rail is buttressed with leather-cov- 
ered cushions, but even those do not protect you 
against all bruising, and, what with lookouts, wheel- 
men, signalmen and engine-room directors, there is 
always a party of twelve crowded there. 

"Average speed twenty-five !" bawled the Captain 
—no speech less than a yell is audible on a destroy- 
er's bridge at sea. 

Dimly I could discern a man pulling a lever. . . . 

When morning broke, there were only our fellow- 
destroyers visible. 

"Where's the convoy?" I wondered. 

"Gone on its way," I was told. "Didn't you hear 
me order a speed of twenty-five an hour ago ? That 
was when we said good-by to them. Now we are 
beating it down to another point to make contact 
with the incoming fellows." 

For a long time nothing happened. I was begin- 
ning to think that nothing would happen. Hanging 
on to the rail, I must have dozed a bit. Then, 
though he spoke merely as if he were reporting an 



116 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

expected lighthouse, I heard one of the lookouts 
saying : 

"Periscope two points off the port bow, sir." 

I was wide awake now, 

"Look there," said a pointing junior officer. "It's 
the prettiest submarine wake Fve ever seen." 

The lookout had scarcely uttered the words when 
the siren sounded. It was "general quarters." As 
a boxer in the ring whirls about after rushing and 
passing his opponent, so our destroyer whirled about 
in the sea and changed for the mark in the water 
that, however clear it might be to the trained eyes 
about me, was invisible to mine. 

I know what happened, but what I was conscious 
of observing was simply an ordered dash of men to 
a score of preordained stations. There were bells. 
The Captain leaned over the rail, one hand upraised. 

"Now," he called. 

Down an inclined pair of rails and over our stern 
an iron carton rolled. It splashed into the sea. 

"Full speed ahead!" 

We jumped forward. 

Then we seemed to be lifted out of the water by 
a blow from underneath, whereupon an unseen hand 
grasped our boat in the air and shook it. Astern, the 
ocean's surface rose into a little hill : a hill at first 
all boiling blackness and then churning white. Close 
behind us, but safe enough away, for all that — so 
far as we were concerned — the depth-charge had ex- 
ploded. 










3 



. 'i.. MwLaiiMi, 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 117 

The Captain said it wasn't a submarine, and he 
ought to know. He was rather angry, and he had, 
no doubt, a right to be. But he had shown me what 
his ship could do and that he knew his business. 

I am trying to write this story in the order in 
which it happened, yet I know that to the general 
pubHc, after a false submarine alarm, the only thing 
not an anticlimax would be a real submarine, and I 
have, I am glad to say, no real submarine to offer. 
If events had only occurred otherwise, we might 
have preceded the incident of the depth-charge by 
telling how we searched for our incoming convoy; 
how we proceeded with the destroyers so disposed 
as to have a vision of about seventy square miles; 
how, noting a pair of rain squalls advancing on us 
along parallel lines, we so maneuvered as to dodge, 
dry, between them; how we sought to "make con- 
tact" with our wards by smoke and radio, and how 
the Captain swore when those wards were an hour 
late. 

"All those fellows are way behind — way behind !" 
he grumbled. "Here it is nine o'clock in the morn- 
ing and we're all over the appointed spot and they're 
nowhere. I'll bet they've done something phony — 
the prime vertical slits won't lie. I'll give them ten 
minutes more and not another second. They might 
be shoreward of us, so I'll have to race back if they 
don't show up soon. — Radio ! — get that radio-room! 
' — Can't you pick up those transports?" 

|The foretop interrupted the answer: 



118 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"Smoke a point and a half forward of the port 
beam!" 

We changed our course immediately. A little 
later, one of the bridge lookouts corroborated the 
foretop's report. It was the transport's smoke ; and 
the other destroyers began to smoke in reply. The 
first sight had been made from a distance of eigh- 
teen miles ; the sight from the bridge at twelve. 

"Got a transport !" called the radio-room tube. 

"Never mind her now," said the Captain. "We've 
got her up here. Listen for a contact signal. — Get 
up on the foretop, quartermaster. — Standard speed 
twenty knots. — Contact 240, distance 10. — Gear 
sixty. — What jig are they on? Three? And ten 
miles to the south'ard? Why, their course — . I'll 
bet Jerre Peters. He ought to change twenty de- 
grees in the next two minutes." 

There had been along the horizon a faint gray 
band. Gradually upon it I saw ships take shape un- 
til they looked like pictured ships on a wall-paper 
border. 

There was some beautiful boat-handling. At one 
moment we went through that convoy — so one offi- 
cer put it — "like a dose of salts" — great, gray lin- 
ers, the decks packed with cheering doughboys, 
every one of them wearing his life-preserver. 

"There are twenty-five hundred aboard this one," 
said our Captain. "On that thirty-five hundred. 
The big fellow has eight thousand. You there, star- 



ON BOARD A DESTROYER 119 

board lookout, look for subs; don't watch the con- 
voy! Fox, Quack, Numeral!" 

The signal-flags were dancing up the halliards. 

So we took them Franceward. Days we went 
and nights. It is no easy matter to avoid collision, 
when zigzagging with a cluttering convoy by sun- 
light ; in Stygian darkness, governing movements by 
fallible clocks, it is an exhausting performance. Your 
nearest destroyer mistakes you for an enemy and 
tries to run you down, your biggest transport is a 
second tardy or its clock runs an instant slow, and 
you all but graze as you dart from under its sud- 
denly towering prow ; somebody's steering-gear goes 
wrong; morning finds a troopship, suffering from 
acute rudder trouble, chasing its tail nine miles astern 
of the convoy. It is nervous work, that of the fleet's 
commander and of every man engaged. There is 
not a second of sleep for any one, and the land, even 
on a day of rain, rises from the water like a garden 
of beauty. 

**Engine-room, standard speed twenty. Left 
rudder, twenty-five to thirty. Run up 'Follow me.' 
Ease rudder !" 

We came in. Our own destroyer glided up to its 
particular buoy and stopped there with the nicety of 
a runabout entering its garage. All the men on all 
the transports were cheering again. 

They always do. They ought to. The destroyers 
deserve it. 



Your wife, she's your allotment-girl; 

Your kid's your next of kin; 
But a mighty close relation 

Is the ship that brings you in! 
She sickens you; you curse her out; 

You call her ''This damned tub"; 
But you count upon that transport 

To dodge the subtle sub! 

From New York Town to Quiberon, 

'Tzvixt Hampton Roads and Dover, 
There's no one you depend on like 

The ship that brings you over! 
So when your feet are dry ashore 

And she is far awash, 
You owe it to the transport that 

You lived to fight the Boche. 

A blackened hold zvith crawling bunks. 

Five high and seven deep; 
There isn't room to vomit, and 

There isn't room to sleep; 
You get an hour in the air 

For twenty under hatch, 
And zvhen you do not have to drill, 

They let you sit and scratch. 

But never mind: you'd never see 

Brest, Boulogne, Bordeaux, Dover, 
Except for that old rattle-trap 

Which somehow got you over; 
The transport's kind o' shopzvorn, and 

She takes too many such 
As you are, but, except for her, 

You wouldn't fight the Dutch, 



A liner and a lady once 

The transport was? Correct! 
So, 'cause she knew those better days. 

You treat her zvith respect! 
Just a bit of reverence 

To all her silvered hair, 
When the steerage is first-cabin, and 

There ain't no cabins there! 

So now that you are safe ashore — 

Or dead ashore, Vgosh! — 
Remember 'twas the transport that 

Conveyed you to the Boche; 
From New York Town to Quiberon, 

'Twixt Hampton Roads and Dover, 
Your one best bet was this old tub 

That somehow brought you over. 

— Song of the Transport Crew. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE SUBMARINE 

*'T N Spite of the sinking of the Justicia, I believe 
X that the Germans are dissatisfied with the results 
of their submarine warfare. I believe that Sir Eric 
Geddes, the British First Lord of the Admiralty, 
was right when he said that the ^submarine is held.' 
But I also believe that it is not enough that the Ger- 
mans, who are extremists, should be dissatisfied, or 
that the submarine should be 'held.' I believe that 
the Germans should be made to realize that the sub- 
marine is a failure — in other words, I believe that 
the submarine should be crushed. Is that easier said 
than done? I am not so certain." 

The man that was talking to me probably knows 
as much about underseas warfare as anybody in the 
Allies' navies, and the paragraph just quoted is the 
gist of his opinion then expressed. His name it 
would, for reasons presently obvious, be unwise to 
disclose ; his acquaintance with the matter in hand is, 
however, sufficiently patent in his words themselves. 
He speaks with authority. 

"Let us look first," he continued, "at the bright 
side of the picture. In a perfectly true sense, the 
submarine is Germany's confession of failure to con- 
trol the surface of the seas. That is to say that the 

122 



TRUTH ABOUT THE SUBMARINE 123 

German submarine is a creation of the British Grand 
Fleet. England's power on the water was too strong 
for the Germans to attack it there, and so they had 
to develop the existing means of attacking it from 
below; anybody will admit that, could they have 
hoped for a good old-fashioned victory on the waves, 
they would have attempted one. But — again thanks 
to the Grand Pleet — they haven't even been able to 
succeed in their under-water attack, and that is 
proved by the fact that they have directed their ef- 
forts not against the Grand Fleet, which it goes 
without saying they would prefer to destroy, but 
chiefly against merchantmen. A much longer delay 
of victory ashore may eventually force the German 
dreadnoughts into the open; the demands to be 
shown something for their money by the German 
bourgeoisie, which was taxed to create those dread- 
noughts, may compel such an action; but the Ger- 
man government will, if it can, hold fast to the the- 
ory of The Fleet in Being' — to the theory that it is 
well to have the asset of an unharmed force on one's 
side when one comes to sit down at the peace-table. 
Meanwhile, the submarine campaign against mer- 
chantmen and transports will continue. 

*'Again, there is that domestic dissatisfaction with 
the results of such a campaign which I have already 
referred to. There are now a good many German 
disciples of the Herr Professor Flamm, of Char- 
lottenburg, who, writing in Die Woche, wanted 
fewer men saved from torpedoed merchant-ships. 



124 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

He even took a hint from the EngHsh, who don't 
pubHcly report the sinking of a submarine : he wants 
all wreckage of submarined vessels so thoroughly 
destroyed that their unexplained disappearance will 
spread greater terror — and, as I say, he has his 
followers who are proof sufficient of the German 
people's growing doubt about Admiral Von Tirpitz's 
promises. 

*'And finally, there is an argument to be made 
even on the supposition that Germany cleans up more 
of England's merchant-marine than she has yet suc- 
ceeded in destroying. In the Napoleonic Wars — in 
the days of the great Nelson, mind you — England 
took exactly 440 French ships as against 5,314 Eng- 
lish ships taken by the French : in other words, Eng- 
land then lost 40 per cent, of her entire tonnage-— 
and yet she recovered. 

"That would seem to bear out our own Admiral 
Mahan's theory. He granted the harassment 
caused a country by serious interference with its 
commerce; he admitted that such interference was 
a most important secondary part of naval warfare, 
not likely to be abandoned till war itself shall cease; 
but he insisted that to regard it as primary and fun- 
damental, as ^sufficient in itself to crush an enemy' 
was 'probably a delusion,' and he thought it was 
certainly so when that enemy possessed such a wide- 
spread commerce and such a powerful navy as are 
possessed by Great Britain. 

"Well, all this may apply to the present war ; but 



TRUTH ABOUT THE SUBMARINE 125 

what of the next? England's next? Our own — 
wherein our naval position will be somewhat similar 
to England's ? Germany may learn from her failures 
' — or other potential enemies may. They may learn 
that the failure is not one of method but of force, — 
not of kind, but of degree. That is why I say that 
we must crush the submarine now. 

"We've now had nearly a year and a half of Ger- 
many's 'unrestricted' submarine-warfare, and what 
have been its results ? 

"The English are proudly pointing to the fact 
that, in nearly all that time, although the Germans 
have sunk more than a thousand British ships of 
various tonnage, they have themselves lost, in the 
endeavor, what is calculated as pretty nearly half 
of their total underwater fleet. It is added that, of 
late, submarines are being sunk as quickly as the 
German-s can build them, and, on top of this, there 
comes the statement of Sir Eric Geddes. 

"You have seen that I don't think the Ger- 
mans themselves were particularly pleased with their 
achievements. They can't disguise from themselves 
their failure to fulfill their prophecies. Here is their 
expert, Captain Persius coming out in cold type with 
the declaration that their previous hopes were ab- 
surd; and even Vice- Admiral Galster grants that 
his willing eyes can't shut themselves to the truth that 
neutral shipping hasn't been frightened from the 
water and that England is not yet on her knees. 

"But both the English and their enemies overlook, 



126 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

it seems to me, other elements than the submarine 
that enter into the present state of affairs. For in- 
stance, England's food shortage, although accen- 
tuated by the activities of the submarine, is in part 
due to a world shortage that the British Isles would 
have felt, in some degree, if the submarine had been 
quiescent. A writer in the London Daily Mail also 
points out that the English government has muddled 
its food question by so far eliminating its ship- 
owners, and replacing them with a lot of not very 
competent officials, that no end of delay has resulted 
in the direction of the movements of shipping and 
that, therefore, carrying-power has been reduced. 
To get the true view of England's relation to the 
submarine-menace, you mustn't only count the ton- 
nage of the ships sunk; you must also take into con- 
sideration the world food-shortage on the one hand, 
and, on the other, must compare the number of ships 
sunk with the number of ships in transit during the 
period under discussion. 

"But any farsighted naval man will tell you one 
thing. He will tell you that, for their own future 
protection, the British Isles will have to find a means, 
during this war, of stamping out the submarine; to 
think that it is sufficient to 'hold it' is a positive 
peril. The nation that replied in the past to Eng- 
land's blockade on top of the sea by a counter- 
blockade underneath the sea is likely, at any time 
in the future, to initiate a new and more successful 
underseas blockade. Because Germany didn't sue- 



TRUTH ABOUT THE SUBMARINE 127 

ceed in starving England in 1917 is no guarantee 
that she won't try again in 1950. 

'The submarine began in America, as most of the 
inventions perfected in this war began — and, as 
with most of them, our redtape bureaucrats let it 
get away from them. Then the perfected plans were 
passed, as in the case of the Lewis gun, to England; 
but England, in those days, was careless — she mis- 
trusted any new thing, and her then comfortable 
naval officers didn't like the idea of the hard living 
and messing about with enlisted men enforced by 
the submarine — and so she pigeonholed the plans. 
When she heard that France was playing with the 
idea, English naval authorities caused the publica- 
tion of statements belittling it and, owing to the in- 
fluence of the tradition that Britannia knew every- 
thing about the waves that she was ruling, the 
French took this British authoritative opinion and 
— left canny Germany to develop the underseas 
craft. 

''Because of her geographical position, her trade 
and her scant agriculture, England should have 
tackled the submarine-menace years ago. Now that 
she's learned a thing or two, she must see that she 
has got to scotch it if she values her existence. 

*'When you get down to it, what do any of us — 
even the experts — know about the German sub, any- 
how? As a matter of fact, the obtainable data isn't 
much ; it has been best summarized by the Engineer- 
ing Committee of the American National Research 



128 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Council, and it amounts, in primer terms, to about 
this: 

*The submarine is a relatively small, submersi- 
ble boat, carrying generally only one gun and a crew 
of from thirty to forty men, and most deadly be- 
cause of her torpedoes. These torpedoes are effect- 
ive at ten thousand yards ; they are really little auto- 
matic ships, driven by their own engines and steered 
by their own steering-gear — the latter set accord- 
ing to calculations just before the torpedo is 
launched against its victim — and they can travel 
under water at from eight to ten knots, which is 
equal to the speed of the average merchantman, or 
on the surface at from eighteen to twenty knots, 
which is far faster than the average merchantman 
can run away from them. 

"The submarine goes hunting alone or in pack- 
formation. It has a possible cruising-radius of any- 
where from four thousand five hundred to eight 
thousand miles, if it doesn't exceed an average 
speed of from ten to twelve knots for surface travel. 
It can keep out of port for about a month — maybe a 
few days more at a pinch — and the Germans have 
been using not only supply-bases off Iceland and oil 
supplies submerged at sea, but also, as the British 
fleet recently discovered, ashore in Iceland and 
Greenland. 

'The submarine's usual track for undersea-travel 
is not less than fifty and not more than one hundred 
feet below the surface; the gyroscope compass is 





3 



'ft 



TRUTH ABOUT THE SUBMARINE 129 

used. Submergence is possible to a depth of two 
hundred feet, and the best tactic consists of lying on 
a proper sea-floor and using listening devices to de- 
tect the approach of the prey. When the ocean is 
very deep, the submarine, which prefers a dive of 
about fifty feet, will go down into it only a short 
distance, but that is not altogether satisfactory, be- 
cause it then has to maintain steerage-way to keep 
its level of submergence, which makes its speed from 
two to four knots. For underwater travel, the old 
German types could count on doing ten knots, the 
newest must make half again as much. On the sur- 
face — and, for the unaccustomed eye, it is almost 
as hard to see a submarine's hull as it is to see her 
periscope — the maximum speed is from fourteen to 
twenty. It is also possible for a good submarine to 
take a sort of up-and-down course, now nearly on 
the water and now well under it. 

"Its game, of course, is, warned of a vessel's ap- 
proach, to rise high enough to get an observation 
with a periscope — the newest types have three per- 
iscopes — secure a favorable position and then let 
drive with a torpedo. The latest models, if they're 
not too deep, can come up and get their observation 
in as little as fifteen seconds — none of them takes 
more than a half minute, and from their greatest 
depth of submergence, they can rise in from one to 
four minutes. We used to think they aimed their 
torpedo best by changing the direction of the sub- 
marine, but that doesn't seem true of the new sort; 



130 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

all we are sure of is that the torpedo can travel 
nearer the surface in smooth water than in rough, 
but that its best average depth is ten feet." 

I asked about the submarine's defects. 

"They are plentiful," said my informant. "On 
the surface, the submarine is dangerous only to her- 
self in the presence of a ship properly armed and 
properly manned; her one or two guns can bring a 
harmless merchantman to terms — nothing more. 
She is defenseless against air-attack, having a hull 
that is of necessity a mere egg-shell; she can be 
easily rammed to bits or broken wide open by a direct 
hit from a well-directed gun. Moreover, when com- 
pletely submerged, although not deaf, she is blind, 
and is liable to crushing by the slight shock of a 
depth-charge exploded at some distance from her." 

Then I was curious as to how far from the sides 
of a ship a protecting shield or net, which would 
explode a torpedo, ought to be placed for safety. 

"That," said my informant, "depends on the 
depth of the torpedo, the strength of the ship's sides 
and the weight of the explosive charge. Consider- 
ing the usual torpedo and the usual merchant-ship, 
say twenty-five feet. Anyhow, though naval ex- 
perts disagree on most things, they are of one mind 
on this — the distance would have to be so great that 
the net or shield idea, though here and there in use, 
is not by any means what some persons hoped it 
would be. We might get a sound-device that would 
catch or register the submarine's rudder or propeller 



TRUTH ABOUT THE SUBMARINE 131 

movements while cutting out all conflicting sounds; 
but that, in its perfected state, is still to find. 

"So far, if I may commit an Hibernianism, 
most of our ways of meeting the submarine are ways 
of avoiding it. I mean that we depend to a large 
extent on warnings sent by radio to ships at sea, 
which are, to be sure, well enough, and on such nav- 
igating devices as zigzagging. Now, zigzagging is 
all right in itself : the submarine sees the merchant- 
man, or troopship, notes his course, maneuvers to 
get her own torpedo-tubes in play, submerges and 
lets drive ; but meanwhile the intended victim has put 
her helm over to starboard or port, as the case may 
be — has zigzagged, in other words — and the sub- 
marine, which loses turning power as well as speed 
by submersion, has had her calculations knocked into 
a cocked hat : she must begin all over again. That 
sounds well, but zigzagging makes a long voyage; 
many worthwhile merchant-ships do less than eight 
knots, and the zigzag doesn't appreciably lessen the 
risks for a boat doing under ten. 

*Tn my opinion, the successful weapon for use 
against the submarine is one already to hand. I 
mean the destroyer. She is quick, she is fatal, she 
is a difficult mark. The only trouble is that neither 
we nor the British have enough of her. We Amer- 
icans were promised one new destroyer a week after 
January 1st, 1918, and in the four following months 
we got exactly two, of which one was immediately 
laid up for repairs. However, construction will 



132 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

increase and efficiency with it. If this war lasts an- 
other eighteen months, the submarine will have be- 
come a negligible factor, and it will have been the 
destroyer that made it so. 

"Frankly, I believe that the sub is being held even 
now, as Sir Eric Geddes says it is, and I believe it 
is, therefore, no more than a partial success in the 
present war, necessitating only greater efforts in 
ship-production and causing only the minimum of 
suffering. But I am just as certain that England, on 
her part, must consider the matter of big destroyer- 
fleets before she gets into her next war. And so 
must we." 



Oh, say, we can see from a hell of a height 

What you stupidly miss till it's blown you to glory 
(To zvit: the sub's hull undersea) and alight 

With a pounce on the same that is sublimatory ; 
Not exploding in air, zvhy, our bombs do not glare, 
But the bubbles proclaim that the sub's no more there. 
O, Boy, it's a ten-to-one shot that the zvave 
Has closed evermore o'er the submarine's grave! 

From on high, dimly seen through the waves of the 

deep. 
Where the pestilent periscope noiselessly noses. 
What is this which the breeze helps to grape-vine and 

leap. 
Now its top's where its bottom was, head where its 

toes is — 
Or ''are," if you'd rather. No refuge can save 
The sub of the Dutch and the sobs of the slave: 
This breeze-tossed affair that poor Heinie and Gus 
Have watched with despair and dismay — it is us! 

Oh, thus be it ever; so long as zve fly. 

May we still put it over our Teutonic fellow: 
May observer and pilot and pigeons on high. 

While the motor revolves and the little bombs bellow. 
Remain without fright through the perilous flight. 
For, by jiminy-crickets, we're serving Fritz right! 
So long may the Star-Spangled Banner yet wave 
(And us!) o'er the submarine's watery grave! 

— Fly-Cops (Hydroaeroplanes.) 



PART FOUR 

Taking Chances 

CHAPTER X 

UP IN THE AIR 

ON the surface of the sea there was nothing 
visible ; but over the waters, and high up in the 
air, floated two big, black birds. They flew in the 
manner of turkey-buzzards, but more swiftly. Like 
turkey-buzzards, they circled as over unseen carrion. 
Their flight was accompanied by a low whirring 
noise. It was like the sound that the distant saw- 
mill used to make back home, when you were a boy. 

Suddenly one of them swept downwards. As it 
did so, the noise increased to a roar. The bird 
ceased to be black and became yellow, with dashes 
of blue and red upon it. 

Then, out of the waters, from some little trough 
of the waves, there came an incredible shot. 

The descending bird lurched to one side, righted 
itself, quivered. For an instant, it seemed to remain 
stationary in air. The next, and it struggled up- 
ward. It was plain that the bird had been hit in 
some vital spot by that aquatic sportsman and that 
it was trying to regain its mate. 

It never succeeded. Again it paused. It quivered 
134 



UP IN THE AIR 135 

again. Then, with a sudden despairing roar that 
grew in violence as the descent increased, it plunged 
down. It struck the water with a great splash. It 
partially submerged, came up, floated. 

Two hundred yards away, a long, low gray wave 
showed itself, a wave that tossed with the other 
waves, but did not break as they, a solid w^ave. On 
it appeared silhouettes, the silhouettes of men. Some 
of them were busied about a gun. The gun spat at 
the wounded bird in the water. 

One of the silhouettes lifted a megaphone to its 
lips. It said : 

"Surrender!" 

An answering silhouette — two of them — became 
discernible on the back of the broken, bobbing bird. 
One of these had a megaphone also. 

"Not on your life," he replied. 

The voice of the first speaker came clearly : 

*Tf you don't," it said in an accent only slightly 
German, "we shall blow you to bits. Then you're 
either dead or prisoners, anyhow." 

The other voice replied again, and its accent was 
pure Yankee. 

"Aw, go to hell !" it said. 

The gun spat. Its shot touched the intervening 
water, skipped as a stone that a boy "skips" in the 
river, and tore away one of the wings of the bird. 

Then, all in a twinkling, there was a giant hiss 
and a tremendous roar. A broad flash appeared 
from the crest of the solid wave on which the Ger- 



136 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

manic sportsman had been standing. The wave 
seemed to rise on end. It seemed to blow up and 
sink. It left bubbles, and a black scum, and wreck- 
age — and some dark forms struggling in water. 

The solid wave had been a Teutonic submarine. 
The birds were hydroaeroplanes attached to the 
American Naval Forces operating in French waters. 
While dealing with the one that was wounded, the 
submarine had missed the unwounded plane, and 
that, at considerable risk to the observer and pilot 
of its fellow, had dropped a bomb and wiped its 
and their enemy forever from the ocean's face. 

Incidents of this sort are not daily occurrences 
along the coast of France, but they are increasing 
in frequency, and they are at once in the line of 
duty and the chief fillip of delight in the otherwise 
dull lives of our hydro-aviators. Hidden away, 
through dreary days and nights, in little coves and 
inlets and on almost desert islands, these men be- 
come, at stated intervals, the scouts of the nearer 
sea. Besides guiding the convoys, they must scour 
their destined lanes. To their high vision, the sea 
loses all refraction and presents a smooth surface; 
not only is their circle of observation larger than 
that of a ship afloat : they can see any foreign bulk 
that is suspended a considerable depth below the 
water — it may be only a whale, or it may in- 
deed be a submarine, but they can see it. They can 
detect, sooner than a vessel, the wake of a periscope, 
and they can detect mines. They must bomb the 



UP IN THE AIR 137 

submarines and mines, or at least mark the latter 
by phosphor bombs, notify the convoy when it is 
within reach and report, by carrier-pigeon or radio, 
to the home-station and the Naval Base. 

At that Base, I once found the chief of staff 
groaning over a newly-received order. It read : 

Arriving to-day, to construct hydro-aviation sta- 
tion : 

Carpenters' mates 375 

Boatswains' mates and riggers. . 122 

Bricklayers and masons 38 

Electricians, firemen, machinists 75 
Radio-constructors (similar pro- 
portion) 250 

"And," said the chief of staff, "we've got to be 
ready to house and feed these 860 extra men at a 
moment's notice!" 

The station that I first visited was in full opera- 
tion. To get there involved a day's swift motor 
ride from the Base, ending in a long drive across 
apparently endless sea-marshes and over a long 
bridge to an island that was no more than ancient 
sand-dunes rising a little above the level of the sea. 
There was a row of low, wooden barracks and, 
near by and between the ocean and the inlet, three 
vast barns, with semicircular canvas roofs of green 
and blue: the hangars where the scouting-birds 
nested. 

"Better put out your cigarette," said the com- 



138 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

mander. "It's against the rules to smoke near the 
hangars." 

I obeyed, and we entered, our steps ringing loud 
on a cement floor. 

All around us were those planes— I was about to 
say those "amphibious" planes, but these live, of 
course, in the air as well as on land and in the water, 
and they are a thing still so new that we have not 
yet coined the necessary adjective. Yellow they are 
of body, and their tails are tipped with the tricolor 
of France — half boat and half bird, constructed to 
fit on light-wheeled trucks for transportation 
ashore. They reminded me of racing-shells and 
long-ago days when Harvard crews raced Yale on 
the American Thames. 

"Length of hull, thirty-four feet by three," the 
officer was saying; "fifty by five across the wings. 
Notice those wing-tip pontoons; they are intended 
for maintenance of balance when on the surface of 
the water and to prevent the waves from washing 
over the wings and pulling you in." 

He told me that, to the expert flyer, the plane be- 
comes a part of his body and responds to its com- 
mander's will as readily and as rapidly as his arms 
and legs : the hydro-aviator is of centaurian blood. 
A naval Captain, the commander of the destroyer 
Stewart, once confirmed this : 

"We were ahead of a convoy," he said. "I was 
on the bridge and a plane was circling pretty far 
ahead. All of a sudden it saw something:. First it 



UP IN THE AIR 139 

dropped a smoke-bomb to mark the place for us; 
then it swept right toward us. We were going full 
speed ahead. The plane got alongside — but in the 
air, you know — and then swooped down and crossed 
just above the bridge. In spite of its noise and ours 
and the wind's, that plane came so low that, when 
its observer talked to me through his megaphone, I 
could hear every word he said." 

The Stewart charged the marked spot and 
dropped a depth-charge. There is excellent reason 
to believe that she *'got" the submarine, which the 
plane had discovered completely submerged. 

*Tt's all perfectly simple," said the officer that 
was showing me the hangars. "When you go after a 
sub, all you've got to remember is to come up 
against the wind, release your bombs together and 
then drop phosphor-pots to mark the place." 

At this camp and the others that I visited, our 
hydro-aviators tend toward a type. They are slim 
and lithe, with quick eyes and lean faces and the ad- 
mirable habit of silence. The average age is twen- 
ty-three, and the preliminary home-training covers 
a matter of six months, followed by hard practical 
work at some such station as that at Pensacola. For 
the most part, the men now serving in our hydro- 
aeroplane service in France are young volunteers 
that offered themselves when we declared war. 

Though they serve in the air and live ashore, their 
language and customs, like those of the Marines, are 
purely naval. Many of them have never been on 



140' OUR NAVY AT WORK 

the ocean, save for their trip across in the transport, 
but they are all subject to severe reprimand if, while 
on duty, they employ any but sailors' terms: they 
cleaned their mess-halls before I lectured to them 
there, and they called it "swabbing the decks"; 
though their commanding-officer, whatever his rank, 
is called "Captain," all his subalterns are addressed 
as "Mr." 

"It's this way," a mechanic in a sailor's uniform 
explained. "If an officer says to me, 'Tell Jones, 
Seaman 2-c., to report to the Captain of the Yard,' 
why, I say, 'Aye, aye, sir,' and if a petty officer 
talks to me, I've got to say 'sir' to him; but among 
ourselves we — well, we talk like home." 

I turned to a man standing beside him. 

"Isn't it rather dull out here?" I asked. 

"It's not for me," he answered, "for I'm on the 
Alert Section, and the Alert Section doesn't get lib- 
erty." 

"There's nowhere to go when you do get it," 
the first man supplemented — " 'less it's in bathin'," 
he added. 

The flisfht commander took me over to see the 
pigeons, which are by no means the least important 
section of the personnel at every hydro-aviation sta- 
tion. There they were, at least a hundred of them, 
presided over by an expert detailed to take care of 
them and responsible for both their performance and 
well-being. Their house was a pigeon-palace; not 
even show-birds and prize exhibition-birds are better 



UP IN THE AIR 141 

looked after. Every plane that leaves the island 
takes with it a basket of pigeons; as soon as the 
sought convoy is sighted, or a mine or submarine 
observed, two pigeons — they work better in pairs 
and are safer against attack from hawks — are re- 
leased, bearing news of the event, and hurry home- 
ward. 

It was a pilot who came abroad with our first de- 
stroyers that told me first of the work of the mere 
men: 

^'Without hydroaeroplanes," he said, *'the quick- 
est convoy and the keenest destroyers are sort of 
near-sighted : any time a sub's liable to pop up un- 
looked-for and give them a tin fish. ; but we can see 
into the water to a depth of a hundred and fifty feet, 
and we can't ourselves be seen through a periscope. 
Generally speaking, we fly at a height of from two 
hundred to three hundred metres." 

I ventured to remark that that was rather high. 

*'Hydro-aviation," said he, ''is the best grade 
of plane work. You've only got to look at the ques- 
tion of landing to see that. In land flying, when you 
come down, you just hit your tail on the ground — 
you know you'll just slide down — but at sea, you 
come down as if you were falling." 

He explained that our stations were working in 
conjunction with the French and that, as yet, we 
were using French planes. 

'The hard thing to master," he continued, "is the 
signals. There are more confounded signals than 



142 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

there are things to signal about. For instance, if 
Allied subs are working with a convoy, word is sent 
us beforehand, but those subs have signals to identify 
them, just the same. Before each flight, every ob- 
server going out is given a copy of the signals agreed 
on with the convoy, and if he doesn't know them by 
the time he sights that convoy, he's liable to get into 
the worst trouble hell ever get into this side of the 
grave. Everybody knows a red pennant on a plane 
means power-trouble, don't they? Well, that's be- 
cause it always means the same thing ; but these sig- 
nals that mean different things every time — gee 
whiz !" 

The hydroaeroplanes — they weigh about three 
thousand pounds each — travel, when on active duty, 
at an average speed of sixty miles an hour; they 
carry fuel that will feed their six-hundred-pound 
motor for four hours; and they also carry two 
bombs, a machine-gun, the already-mentioned pig- 
eons, a wireless apparatus, a pilot and an observer. 
The observer takes care of the ordnance, instru- 
ments, reconnaissance, navigation and signals ; what 
his superior officer, the pilot, takes care of, beyond 
mere mechanics, I have not yet been able to discover : 
the reason why an observer outranks a pilot is a mys- 
tery second only to that which, in poker, allows a 
flush to beat a straight. 

"Allowing for the time of year," said my in- 
formant, **we mostly work between 4 a. m. and 10 



UP IN THE AIR 143 

p. M. Each station has a zone of the ocean to take 
care of ; we pick up a convoy when it enters our zone 
and carry it on till the folks from the next station 
meet it at the beginning of their zone : it's rather like 
policemen patrolling their beats and meeting at the 
end of them. 

"Our standing orders are to approach vessels at 
an altitude low enough to identify them. Then the 
chief of the flying-station stays over the convoy and 
circles about within half a mile of it; there, and 
when he's on any other sort of job, he sends radio 
reports home every fifteen minutes. The rule is that 
at least two planes must always start together and 
must keep in sight of each other; when there are 
four planes out, they work in pairs. Two hours 
after one section has gone out, another is sent to re- 
lieve it; if one plane out of two or three is crippled 
and has to return to the Base, then the whole lot must 
return, too. The detonators are attached to the 
bombs only when an action is imminent and never 
when we're near a friendly ship; if any bombs are 
released, one plane has to go home and tell about it 
— radio or pigeon won't do. Of course, we've all 
got to be home by dark." 

Into any lengthy description of my own flights I 
need not go. Like a big fish or a small viking-galley 
going stern- foremost, the plane looked as it was 
hauled on its cart from the hangar and as, a moment 
later, it was being towed by a long rope to which 



144 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

clung men soon neck-deep in the water of the inlet. 
Swathed in their strange flying-clothes, the pilot and 
observer made that inspection which the regulations 
require shall be made of each machine before every 
flight. Here are its appalling admonitions : 

Power-plant : 

Be sure that there is water to cool the radiator ; 

See that the gas and oil supply are sufficient ; 

That the motor is warmed up to proper tem- 
perature ; 

That the revolution-counter is working; 

Also the oil-gauge; 

That the gasoline-supply cocks are open ; 

And ignition perfect; 

That each of the two magnetos works inde- 
pendently ; 

Examine the auxiliary air-lever; 

Regulate the throttle-valve ; 

See that there are no leaks in gas, oil or water 
lines ; 

And that the propeller is properly aligned ; 

As well as that the necessary emergency tool- 
kit is complete. 

Structure : 

Have the controls in perfect working order; 

All the safety-wires in place ; 

Each wire unbroken and at proper tension; 

All pullies lubricated; 

No broken spars or torn fabric ; 

No water aboard from that shipped during the 

last trip ; 
Tow-line attached; 




a 



.Oh 
!5 



O -S 



] 



UP IN THE AIR 145 

Ballast adjusted; 
Barograph at zero; 
Clock set and running; 
Speed-meter in order. 

Ordnance : 

Corpets in working-shape ; 
Releasing-devices lubricated ; 
Bombs in place (if going for bombing- work) ; 
Detonators in place, properly secured and safely 

locked ; 
Bomb-sights in perfect condition; 
Gun in place and working; 
Ammunition provided. 

Accessories : 

Four pigeons, with message-holders in place, 
with pencil and pad ; 

Pistols and one box of cartridges; 

Four phosphor-pots ; 

Ditto distress-signals ; 

Field-glasses, chart and pencil therefor; 

Note-book ; 

Four signal-buoys, with board and pencil at- 
tached ; 

Signal-flares, with suspension- wire and weight; 

Signal-book, sea-anchor, box of matches; 

Two pieces of chalk; 

Cup for spreading oil ; 

Radio set in working order; 

Three Hfe-buoys; 

Emergency- rations ; 

Wire-cutter. 



146 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

One behind the other, there are two circular holes 
in the body of a plane. In these, each on a chair 
that is so low as to leave little more than his head 
visible above the surface, sit the pilot and observer, 
the former forward — his binoculars almost contin- 
ually at his eyes, clustered about him the compass, 
altometre, chart, clock, wireless apparatus, sights 
and bomb-releases — the latter nearer the center, a 
compass beside him, too, and the oil-gauges, air- 
pressure and speed indicators and fire-extinguishers 
all within easy reach. 

"Watch out for the woodwork!" That is the 
warning given every passenger. ''We've got a 
twenty-horse-power motor, but the body of a plane 
is only three-ply birch. Even a rough landing 
would bust us, and every fifty hours there has to be 
an overhauling." 

When you go up in a hydroaeroplane, you know 
it. With a mighty shout, the men in the water cast 
off the rope ; the motor, directly overhead, begins a 
whirring that drowns the mechanics' cheers; there 
is set up a vibration compared with which the great- 
est vibration of the smallest automobile is the mere 
rustle of a leaf; the vehicle glides over the surface 
of the sea ; the pilot leans forward and pulls some- 
thing, or turns something — and the forward end of 
that winged, three-ply birch-canoe rises gently into 
the ether. You are going up; you are flying; you 
are afloat on nothing with only the sky above and the 
receding ocean beneath. 



UP IN THE AIR 147 

There is not much conversation ; in fact, the noise 
of the motor washes out nearly every other sound, 
and, I have been told, there is no discernible noise 
during any battle in the air. If you are not a good 
sailor, you are seasick, and if you are not bundled 
up from toes to head, you are miserably cold. It 
takes you some time to make up your mind to look 
overside, and when you do, it is to see only flat 
water below you, with here and there a toy sail upon 
it, and, perhaps, off to right or left, the land, which 
looks like nothing so much as the make-believe made- 
in-Germany land that the children used to set around 
the base of Christmas-trees. 

The pilot draws the lever toward him when he 
wants to mount and pushes it away in order to de- 
scend ; he turns his wheel in that direction in which 
he wants the plane to tilt, and to turn the craft his 
feet press either the right or the left of the pair of 
pedals at the bottom of the hole in which he is 
squatting. These are the facts, but you don't at 
first realize them ; at first, the pilot is likely to begin 
your initiation by working "All out," which is to say 
at full speed, and then all your attention is centered 
in getting your breath and wondering how short a 
time will pass before the seemingly inevitable fall. 

"It's a great life," said my observer, as he clam- 
bered, at last, out of his craft on its return to the 
good dry land. 

"If you don't weaken," added the pilot. 

"It's a merry life," said the observer. 



148 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

The pilot looked at the sky ; he looked at the smil- 
ing sea. 

"And a short one," he concluded. 



Fighting f Fighting* s very well; 

Fighting's something quick! 
W ork-and-waiting , that's the job 

Makes a fellozv sick. 

Get a bullet in your chest — 

Dead before you show it. 
Try to drink the ocean up — 

Dead before you know it. 

Dying's such a speedy thing, 

Where's the time for tears? 
Working just goes on and on, 

Weeks and months and years! 

— Base-Men. 



CHAPTER XI 

TWO HARD JOBS 

THE hardest things about war are its dull 
spots, and the worst of the dull spots are that 
they are, as often as not, among the most important. 
In modern naval warfare — at least as one sees it on 
and along the coast of France — not the least vital 
work is the dreariest, and this is done by two very 
different sorts of men: to wit, the men of the ob- 
servation-balloons and the stevedores. The former 
sound romantic and the latter prosaic; as a matter 
of fact, both are picturesque figures enough, and 
both have tasks that are as stupid as they are vital. 

1 : The Observation-Balloons 

Fill the baskets, 
Fill the baskets, 

Fill the baskets there! 
We're the guys 
That serve as eyes 

Floating in the air — 
Floating in the seasick air — 
High above the waves ; 

If we wouldn't be for you 
Glasses — didn't see for you — 
You'd be in your graves ; 
You'd be underneath the sea, 

Swallowing the green, 
Entrees for the fish you'd be, 

150 



TWO HARD JOBS 151 

Subbed and submarine; 
Down among the sharks you'd go, 

Serving bloody wine, 
'Cause your transport stubbed its toe 

On a German mine. 
Well, we'll keep you safe, I guess ! 

Up here eating cloud, 
We are just a little less 

Than the angel crowd. 
Cast your eye upon us 

When you say a prayer : 
We're the guys 
That put you wise. — 
Pull the baskets, 
Pull the baskets, 

Pull the baskets there ! 

— Hot- Dogs. 

The first thing that the eastbound transport sees, 
after it has been met by our destroyers, is the low- 
line of cliff that is France; the next thing is a scat- 
tered group of dots in the sky. As the boats draw 
nearer, these dots assume bulk; they begin to look 
like kneeling elephants swaying in the ether: they 
are the observation-balloons that are sent out daily 
to scour, with their tireless eyes, the nearer waters 
and to report immediately the presence of every sub- 
marine below the surface and every doubtful craft, 
or craft unaccounted for, above it. 

The observers work from high-rimmed baskets 
suspended below the great gas-bags; the balloons 
themselves are connected with their stations by 
cables — in other w^ords, they are what are called 
"captive-balloons" — and the operators are connected 



152 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

with earth by traveling telephones or radio, or both. 
Like the hydroaeroplanes, the balloons make it pos- 
sible for their operators to see far below the surface 
of the water over which they float ; they are less ex- 
pensive than the flying-machines and can remain in 
air much longer ; they require practically no mechan- 
ical skill on the part of the men that they carry; but 
their field of operations is necessarily more limited, 
and they are in no sense engines of offense. They 
are, in effect, to the coast-guard what an advanced 
observation-post is to an army in the field. 

Compared with other forms of air-activity that 
of the man who goes aloft under a naval observa- 
tion-balloon is safe. His brother operator, hovering 
about the trenches along the Marne or beyond Toul, 
may be shot down by a shell from below or by an 
aeroplane from above, but he is almost never sub- 
ject to enemy-attack and is practically immune 
against it. He flies at a height which few naval guns 
are constructed to attain and over a field where the 
German is operating in such a manner that his sole 
desire is to remain hidden at every moment save 
those connected with torpedo-launching. 

Nevertheless, the balloons sometimes achieve 
puncture, on their own account; accidents — cause 
undetermined, because no witness survived — have 
resulted in fires ; baskets have overtipped in storms, 
cables have severed and the great bags drifted, help- 
less, out over the sea. 

Less comfortable work than that of the observers 



TWO HARD JOBS 153 

it is difficult to imagine. Elsewhere in this book I 
mention the purely personal fact that I am not — or 
never have been, up to date — subject to seasickness, 
but I defy any man that is new to it to ascend in one 
of these swaying sky-trawlers and not seriously be- 
lieve, for a while, that his digestive organs are about 
to play him tricks. The baskets, large as they seem 
when they are pulled up, by pulleys, from the earth 
to their post below the ready gas-bag, are narrow 
and cramped ; a dull, steady cold settles down on the 
observer and eats into his vitals; yet, provided by 
the Base with information as to the appearance and 
nature of every ship that has a right to come, during 
his stay in the air, within his sight, he must remain 
up, frequently from sunrise to sunset, and, his binoc- 
ulars glued to his eyes, take turn and turn about 
with his companion, scouring with aching vision the 
level-seeming surface of the sea. 

Even when not on active duty — if you can call 
such duty "active" — the life of the balloonist is 
scarcely amusing. His station is generally at a 
distance from any town, and his existence is about 
as lonely as that of a shipwrecked crew on a coral- 
reef. Mostly his chief interest is in writing and 
reading letters. At one balloon-camp that I visited 
one out of every three men, for the past week, had 
been writing home to his v/ife, who hadn't written 
him for a month, to say that if the wife let another 
month go by in silence she would not get her allot- 
ment. 



154 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"There was one unmarried fellow," continued the 
censor that told me this, "who sent a note to his girl ; 
it read simply : *Now don't be a durned fool and get 
married to some other fellow while I'm gone.' There 
was another whose letter consisted of exactly eight 
words : 

" *Dear Ethel : 

*Thank you. Don't write again. 

^Bob/ 

But mostly they are prolific correspondents, and I 
am a bit stumped by the chaps that write in Yid- 
dish." 

It is not to be supposed, however, that these men 
are a down-hearted lot. I saw a boxing-match that 
was arranged for them and that was presided over 
by a chaplain, a Catholic priest, whose father used 
to be a well-known railway president before the gov- 
ernment took over the railways; he told the audi- 
ence at the start that there must be no malice in any 
of its comments and no efforts to excite the per- 
formers to anything but clean sport: whether the 
admonition was needed or not I don't know, but I 
never saw boxing that was better enjoyed, and the 
sole remark made by the onlookers at the only slow 
bout was one urging the hesitant combatants to 
"drop a nickel in the piano-player." 

Once I talked to the men at such a station. I was 
fresh from the French front and asked them what 



TWO HARD JOBS 155 

they wanted me to tell them. There was a unani- 
mous answer : 

''Tell us when we're going home !" 

I was a bit taken aback. I said that they were 
going home just as soon as we had whipped the 
Kaiser. 

"You wouldn't want to go home before that, 
would you ?" I inquired. 

The shouted ''No!" that answered me shook the 
rafters of the shed. 

At another time, with a group of these men that 
had liberty, I was to ride on a motor-truck to the 
Base-town. Something or other happened to the 
truck as we gathered around it : the driver said so 
and demurred at attempting to start. 

"You got four wheels an' an engine left, haven't 
you?" the men demanded. 

The driver sullenly owned to so much. 

"Then go!" they insisted. 

We went. We went singing. We went like 
schoolboys when school closes. At a drawbridge 
before the entrance to the city, there was a jam: 
quite a French crowd was held up because of a dis- 
pute, which it eagerly took part in, between the po- 
liceman on guard and two carters, each of whom 
vociferously claimed it as his right to cross that 
bridge first. In France, a policeman always argues 
before he arrests; he argues regardless of the fact 
that he has previously determined just what course 
of action to pursue. Our fellows for a while watched 



156 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

this particular argument — they knew no French, 
and so couldn't properly be said to be listening to it 
— with huge enjoyment. Then they began to realize 
that the minutes of their precious liberty were slip- 
ping away. 

"Hey!" called one of them. ''Don't you people 
know you're holding up this war?" 

A negro stevedore appeared from nowhere — how 
he got out of his cantonment I should not like to 
say — and he, acting as interpreter, had a way cleared 
for these Americans, who, he said, were *'on im- 
portant military business." He came from New Or- 
leans, that fellow, and he spoke a bit of old Creole 
French. 

2. Shut-Ins 



That Kaiser-man, Ah'm tellin' you, 
He's des' the devil's double ; 

Ah guess he's never seen me, but 
He sure has caused me trouble : 

Ah thought Ah'd come to France to fight 
An' let him have a clip — 

An' what you think they set me to ? 
Unloadin ship! 

There's somepin' ailin' in ma haid : 

Ah never was a rover, 
Ma job was good — ef Ah warn't cracked 

Ah'd never have come over ; 
Ah'm slecpin' in the open here, 

Ah'm (loin' 'diout ma fun, 
Ah'm kerryin' tons o' de\a.ytd freight — ► 
Why not a gun ? 




'iM.\M^^i._:mm.. 



TWO HARD JOBS 157, 

Ah didn't lak the ocean much — 

That sub-yarn ain't no jolly — 
En Ah'm goin' to ast th' Culnel fer 

To send me home by trolley: 
Ah don't mind workin' every day, 

Er workin' every night, 
But, bein' bawn a fightin'-man, 
Ah'd like to fight. 

— Stevedores. 

Perhaps, strictly speaking, those stevedores — 
they seem to be all negroes — have no place in a 
book about the Navy. Strictly speaking, at all events, 
the Navy is not responsible for them : they do not 
belong to it; they belong to the Army. Of old, our 
transports were an Army care; when a long and 
tedious array of complaints resulted in the shifting 
of that marine burden to the shoulders of the Navy 
Department, which were in the nature of things 
better fitted to bear it, the stevedores, through some 
oversight, did not go along; but, since they had to 
unload stores from Navy-controlled boats for trans- 
fer upon Army-controlled railway trains, they came, 
while so employed, to form a sort of link between 
the two branches of the service, and so they are now 
doing a formidable part of America's work along 
the French coast, concerning which work as a whole 
no book would be complete without some mention 
of them. 

Primarily, then, their duty is the hauling ashore 
of pretty much everything, except the soldiers, 
which our ships bring abroad, but generally con- 



158 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

fused with them are vast numbers of other men of 
their race who are now drafted, again enHsted vol- 
unteers and yet again hired contract-labourers. So 
far they have not, as any Army officer put it to me, 
"mixed well" : those in one sort of work are suffi- 
ciently human to look down on those in another 
sort; the "reg'lars" expect the "contract-trash" to 
defer to them; the southern negroes do not care for 
those from northern states, declaring that the latter 
"ain't real niggers, nohow," and those from the 
northern states sometimes assume an air of superior- 
ity that aggravates their fellows. There have, con- 
sequently, been some rather lively battles, and the 
issue is not yet determined. 

Herbert Corey told me of one encounter that he 
witnessed between a labourer from New Orleans 
and a stevedore from New York. When the fight 
was over, its volunteer referee sent for the New 
Yorker's brother, who was working near by. 

"Now," said the referee, "right hyere's the two 
ov *um. Pick 'um out to suit yo'self. Which is yo' 
brother en which is t'other'n?" 

At that French port at which we are constructing 
our largest docks, an Army man, an officer of En- 
gineers, complained bitterly : 

"In one ship," he told me, "we had six hundred 
of the stevedores sent over here without any hospital 
corps and without any doctor ; you can't imagine the 
condition those poor fellows were in. Taking all 
our negro labourers in a bunch, it is safe to say that 



TWO HARD JOBS 159 

fifty per cent, are physically unfit. They are un- 
suited to this climate and go down easily before 
pneumonia and tuberculosis; hundreds of them are 
all the while laid up from work by minor ills, espe- 
cially rheumatism ; many contracted diseases coming 
over; more were in bad shape when they left home. 
We ship from three to twelve negroes daily to Base- 
hospitals, and when a fellow is sent to a Base- 
hospital it means that he is a very sick man. Out of 
fifteen hundred drafted negroes assigned to us as 
labourers, a large proportion either had phthisis or 
was in a late state of a social disease when they got 
here. Others got in as bad a state because we 
couldn't keep them out of the longshore cafes. The 
net result was that, right at the start, four times as 
many stakes were driven daily by our own enlisted 
men of the Engineers as by the same number of 
outside labourers on the same job." 

One remedy to mere slackness, thus far only im- 
perfectly tried, but consistently efficacious, has been 
the enlisting of the contract-labourers. As soon as 
one of them gets into a uniform, his bearing and his 
work alike improve ; he is, as he would say, "better 
behaved," and his health improves accordingly. I 
heard one man, whose betterment was scarcely 
twenty- four hours old, accosted by an unregenerate 
that, a day previous, had been his bosom friend. The 
uniformed personage gazed with scorn at his slouch- 
ing interrogator. 

"What's that?" he demanded. "Git away, nig- 



160 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

ger. Ah wouldn't be seen on the street wif yo'. 
Ain't yo' seen these here black French sojers from 
Africa what dresses in sheets? Tha's what yo' 

look lak : yo' look lak a A-rab ! Yo' clo's 

is aflappin' lak a shirt on a fence washdays." 

He was tremendous, this scoffer, a veritable giant. 
A few mornings later, I saw him crossing the big city 
square. Somehow or other, he had evidently been 
detailed to conduct a prisoner, a German officer, 
from one part of the city to another. The officer 
was perhaps just arrived from a distant prison 
camp ; anyhow, he had a large box with him, almost 
the size of an old-fashioned Saratoga trunk. It was 
a hot day, the officer was a little man and fat; but 
it was he, and not the giant, who shouldered that 
box. 

Once I saw him falter and appeal to his guard. 
Would the latter carry the box? The latter would 
not. The most that he would do was to permit a 
brief rest. On the German's part, there was a pock- 
et ward movement of the hand that indicated the 
proffer of a fee, but the response was a refusal and 
a peremptory punishment in the shape of an order to 
march on: the erect negro in Uncle Sam's uniform 
was not to be hired to carry luggage for a Boche 
prisoner. 

At our Naval Base, the soldiery have attempted to 
solve the problem of the negro's exuberance by for- 
bidding him the town. He has to work, by day 



TWO HARD JOBS 161 

shift or night, on the docks, and to sleep there, too. 
He may not leave them; he is confined within a 
stout, high, well-guarded stockade. It is a rather 
mournful life and one that no unprejudiced ob- 
server can not help wishing to see bettered. I was 
informed of it when speaking in a Y. M. C. A. hut 
inside the railings, of the meaning of which railings 
I was then ignorant. I was looking out on a sea of 
sad, black faces, and I made what must have seemed 
a foolish appeal to my hearers to be good boys when- 
ever they went into town. Instantly, a wailing 
chorus interrupted me : 

*'Don' yo' be afraid o' that, Mister, They won't 
let us go outen th' yard !" 

It was one of these working captives from Amer- 
ica that consulted an Army doctor with the com- 
plaint that "sompin's the matter wif ma haid." 

"What do you mean?" asked the doctor. "Got a 
knock on it?'' 

"No, suh; I ain't had no knock on it; ain't been 
a fight fo' mos' a week now." 

"Headache, then?" 

"No, suh; but dey's sompin' wrong wif it." 

"Mean you have earache?" 

"No, suh. Ah — Ah mean — " 

"Well, it can't be that your eyes are troubling 
you?" 

"No, 't ain't ma eyes, suh ; but dey sure is sompin' 
wrong wif ma haid." 



162 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"Then, for Heaven^s sake, tell me your symp- 
toms !'' 

"Symtims? Yas, suh. Ah got a lot o' symtims. 
Yo' see, doctor, it was dis here away. Ah had a 
soft snap back home. Ah had a wife that was a 
good pervider, an' Ah was mighty fond o' that 
woman, an' she was real' in love wif me; an' Ah 
had a nice house; an' Ah had a good job up Baton 
Rouge way. Ah didn't have nuffin' to complain 
'bout, yit Ah done come over here. So dere must 
be sompin' wrong wif ma haid, doctor, else Ah 
wouldn't never' ve come over here." 

He wanted to be sent home as mentally unfit. He 
said he would rather be allowed to go to the front 
and fight for his country than go home, but, failing 
a chance to carry a gun, he wanted to return to 
Baton Rouge. 

He was not alone in this attitude. I heard one of 
his comrades sighing : 

"Ah guess Ah ain't never goin* to git a chance so 
much as to see that there Kaiser-man, an' Ah guess 
he ain't never so much as caught sight o' me ; but he 
sure has caused me a lot o' trouble." 

"Me, too," a negro that was with the worried one 
agreed. "An' another thing: Ah've 'bout enough 
o' them sub-scares, comin' over; when my contrac' 
done run out, Ah ain't goin' home by no ocean, Ah 
ain't ; Ah'm goin' to ast fer transportation b'way o' 
New Orleans/' 

Among them all, the happiest are the worthless. 



TWO HARD JOBS 163 

At the Base-port, there was one of these that was a 
proficient beggar : he would have done credit to pre- 
war Algiers. No white man could pass through the 
stockade while Jerry was there without surrendering 
something to Jerry. If the visitor had no money, he 
would soon find himself parting with a portion of 
his clothing. Indeed, there were times when Jerry 
preferred clothes: one could toss them over the 
stockade to a second-hand clothes shop's runner 
waiting there ; the runner would pay at least a third 
of what he would himself get for them, and that 
was often more than the visitor would feel inclined 
to donate in the way of hard cash. 

On one winter's morning, Jerry approached two 
visiting strangers, one of whom was an Army offi- 
cer, magnificently muffled to the chin in an overcoat 
that was as new as overcoats ever are in a wartime 
army. The other man, a civilian, wore a very or- 
dinary overcoat indeed, but it was at its sleeve that 
Jerry covertly plucked. 

"Ah don't wan' that man fo' to hear me," whis- 
pered Jerry, " 'cause he's one o' them officer- fellows, 
an' they're mighty hard-hearted, them officers. 
'Sides, he's from the Souf, he is, an' them southe'n 
men, they always is 'spicious." 

The officer was a southerner, but the civilian 
wondered how Jerry could know that. 

" 'Cause Ah'm from the Souf mysef," said Jerry. 
"An' now, Mister, Ah jes' gotta tell you' how awful 
near frozen to def Ah am." 



164 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Jerry did look cold. Undoubtedly he was cold. 
Whether he would have worn it had he had one is 
questionable, but what he proceeded to beg for was 
the civilian's overcoat. 

"It's too shabby £o' a man o' yo' position, any- 
how," said Jerry. 

At that moment the officer, who had been momen- 
tarily otherwise engaged, heard the beggar and 
wheeled upon him. 

"Why, you blank-blank, good-for-nothing, low- 
down nigger !" he shouted. "What do you mean by 
asking this gentleman for his overcoat? We 
wouldn't think of giving you anything. If you don't 
clear out this instant, I'll tan the hide off you 1" 

Not even for the twinkling of an eye did Jerry 
show the terror that he must have felt. He turned 
to the officer with his face broken by the best imag- 
inable imitation of a glad grin. He doffed his hat; 
it nearly brushed the ground beside his broken boots. 

"Mawnin', suh," he cried. "Mawnin' ! An', oh, 
bress de Lawd, Ah sure am glad to see you! Ah 
thought yo' was a southe'n gen'man the minute x\h 
sot eyes on yo', an' hearin' yo' talk lake that to me 
makes me sure of it. It makes me plum homesick, 
suh. Now Ah knows Ah'll git a' overcoat!" 

And he was right. In three minutes, he had, not 
the northern civilian's, but the southern officer's 
overcoat across his arm and was sidling toward the 
stockade behind which the second-hand clothes 
shop's runner was waiting. 



TWO HARD JOBS 165 

"I needed a new one, anyhow," the officer ex- 
plained. 

Jerry, however, is an exception. Being a genius, 
he is of course an exception. Most of his comrades 
have anything but an easy time of it. Many of 
them that are enUsted say that they enHsted under 
the delusion that they were to be used as soldiers and 
fighting men. It is hard to make them realize their 
present work's great importance. They hear the 
true stories of the splendid battles that the colored 
troops are waging on the western front, and their 
loudest plaint is contained in the words that I heard 
over and over again : 

"Ah want to fight 1" 



Sailin' in a yellin' yawl, 
Duckin' through the sea, 
Mostly Phippsburg dorymen 
makin' up the gang; 
Channel-this and channel-that. 
Sweep the roadway free; 
Set the drag, 
An' sing a rag. 

An' keep your eye peeled—. 
BANG! 



There's a sub-egg busted; 

Don't you put about! 
What? She's drinkin' for'ardf 

Bale her out — bale her out! 

Draggin' through the nigger night 
An' the dirty day, 
Eyes a-ache an' 
Hearts a-breakin' 
Wet an' frozen stiff, 
Long as any ship's afloat 
We must clear the way 
Into France 
An' take a chance 
Till they get us — 
BIFF! 



Watch your helm there! Steady! 
Smell the sauerkraut? 

Never mind 

To look behind! 
Bale her out — bale her out! 



Here's our simple orders: 
"Go an' git the mines" — 
Nothin' 'bout supplies an' such 
(winch, or sail, or pump); 
Only doctrine's "Hunt 'em out 
Where zve see the signs; 
Go, you mut, 
An' hurry, hut 

Be ready for a — " 

JUMP! . . * 

Right her! — All together! 

She's a tidy tout: 
We kin git to harbour — 

Bale her out! 

— Mine-Sweepers. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE BLOW-UP MEN AND A MEND-UP MOTHER 

A FEW years ago, I passed a summer at as 
lonely a place on the Maine coast as it was 
then possible for me to discover. Heavily wooded 
hills that were very nearly mountains came down to 
the wild sea; American eagles nested in the forest 
across the inlet's mouth; mild-eyed deer ambled 
down the track that I had been told was a road; 
within a radius of twelve miles there were not 
enough inhabitants to maintain more than two 
churches and three speakeasies; and both churches 
and all the speakeasies v/ere impartially patronized 
by my friend Habakkuk Rodgers. 

Habakkuk Rodgers was not his real name^ but 
his real name was so like that that "Habakkuk 
Rodgers" is no exaggeration. When he couldn't 
help it, he would go to Phippsburg and build dories ; 
the rest of the time he lived in a tumbledown cabin 
on a cliff beside the sea and went fishing. I suspect 
that he also robbed lobster-pots, and I know that he 
regarded but lightly the federal regulations pre- 
scribing what size lobsters it is proper to consume. 
Any language save that which he called "American" 

168 



THE BLOW-UP AND MEND-UP 169 

he considered as an infernal survival of the affair at 
Babel, and he sometimes expressed grave doubts as 
to whether such survivals were a reality. He disbe- 
lieved in women and in travel. 

"Women," he would say, **are a invention of the 
devil. That's what I hold. Satan, he got Eve in 
his power by eatin' the apple, an' then she had to 
pass into the serpent, an' the devil he passed into the 
bein' of Eve. You look at the Book, an' you'll see 
f'r yourself. It says there how Satan said, *Ye 
shall not surely die,' — just transfer. So they trans- 
ferred, and seems t' me the change was hard on the 
serpent an' an improvement to Eve. 

^Travel? No, sir. Sometimes I go to Bath an* 
sometimes I gotta go to Phippsburg. But I don't 
hold by travel. Where the Lord puts you, He means 
for you to stay put, else He wouldn't never have put 
you there. You look in the Book. It says: 'All 
these people shall also go to their place.' Nothin' 

'bout comin' away. 'Go' an' stick. That's 

what the Book says." 

Thus Habakkuk Rodgers a few years since. Yet, 
one April afternoon of the present year, I entered 
the bar-room of a port-side cafe along the coast of 
France and saw there this same Habakkuk in famil- 
iar converse with the proprietress. What is more, 
by means of something that he patently considered 
the Gallic tongue, he was making himself under- 
stood. 

He wasn't a bit discomposed when he recognized 



170 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

me. He explained that a transatlantic journey was 
made permissible by that clause in the body of our 
law which declares the suspension of all Constitu- 
tional guarantees in time of war; he accounted for 
his talk and its feminine participant by a reference to 
the second verse of the sixth chapter of Genesis, and 
he closed the entire subject of his part in the war with 
a splendidly bloodthirsty Old Testament quotation 
about the duty of the elect to annihilate the men, 
women and children of God's enemies. Habakkuk 
Rodgers was one of an American crew manning a 
mine-sweeper under the command of our Naval 
Forces in French Waters. 

Enough has, surely, been elsewhere written about 
sea-mines and their nature. "Since," says Mr. Kip- 
ling, "this most Christian war includes laying mines 
in the fairways of traffic, and since these mines may 
be laid at any time by German submarines especially 
built for the work, or by neutral ships, all fairways 
must be swept continuously day and night. When 
a nest of mines is reported, traffic must be hung up 
or deviated till it is cleared out." For that purpose, 
we have taken to France hundreds of fisherman 
from Maine and little boatmen — and especially tug- 
men — from Long Island Sound, and of these became 
Habakkuk. 

They crossed in their own tiny boats — boats 
that nobody had ever before supposed could venture 
safely so far to sea. They were under the guard of 
flanking destroyers and were cared for by a floating 



THE BLOW-UP AND MEND-UP 171 

repair-ship called the mother-ship about which they 
would cluster, during a submarine-scare, as lately- 
hatched chickens cluster under the wings of their 
parent hen. But they were independent individuals 
for all that, and, once they had reported at the Base, 
they became not the least important of those powers 
which kept the sea highroad clear for the transport 
of our men, munitions and supplies. 

At perhaps a score of places along the coast, 
groups of these boats, and their crews, are stationed. 
One is tempted to quote Kipling again, for, though 
he is describing a British group, his picture might 
almost be the picture of an American : "Now, imag- 
ine the acreage of several dock-basins crammed, 
gunwale to gunwale, with brown and umber and 
ochre and rust-red steam-trawlers, tugs, harbour- 
boats . . . once clean and respectable, now dirty 
and happy. Throw in fish-steamers, surprise-pack- 
ets, of unknown lines, and indescribable junks." 
Something like that is what you will see when you 
see a group of our mine-sweeps in port. You will 
see many a little craft that used to tow your liner to 
the New York docks, and you may miss from the 
harbour of New York many a little craft that now 
is doing dangerous war-work in France. So soon 
as a new mine-field is discovered, word of it is sent 
by radio to the Base ; it is marked on the charts and 
the information transmitted to all Allied and neutral 
ships known to be near, and then the orders go forth 
to the closest mine-sweeps, and the tiny mine-sweeps 



172 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

must imperturbably proceed into the midst of that 
nest of sea-hornets and, one by one, explode them. 

There are various methods of sweeping. One the 
British prefer; another the ItaHans; we are working 
on a plan of our own, but have meanwhile found 
the French excellent, and what may well prove the 
best scheme of all is now nearing perfection at the 
hands of its Parisian inventor, Captain Tossizza, 
Ingenieur de la Marine, 

Into details it is inadvisable to go; but, speaking 
roughly and broadly, the fundamental idea on which 
all these methods are based is that of two small boats 
sailing slowly abreast and each carrying an end of a 
wire or cable that passes under the water at such 
a depth as to catch some part or other of the mine. 
There are those who advocate the attachment to this 
cable of blades, sharp and tough, which will sever 
the strand connecting the mine with its buoy and so 
let it sink, of its own weight, to harmless rest upon 
the bottom of the ocean; there are other sweepers, 
men of intellects more simple and direct, who use 
their cables to drag the mine to the surface and then 
explode the devilish device by making it the target 
for their heavy rifle practise; and between the ex- 
tremes of these two schools there are all manner and 
shades of false doctrine, heresy and schism. 

In any case, the work is one in which the raw 
material is death. It is all very well to say that the 
cables catch the mines : they catch the mines that 
happen to be between the boats; for such mines as 
happen to be directly in the course of the boats those 



THE BLOW-UP AND MEND-UP 173 

boats must keep the sharpest lookout, or there is an 
end of things. 

^'Suppose you strike a mine?" I asked a former 
Long Island tugboat-captain. 

He had learned enough French to shrug his 
shoulders ; he shrugged them now. 

"Oh, well," he drawled, "you'd never know it. 
The first thing 3^ou'd know, you wouldn't know 
nothin'." 

Another commander told me this story : 

"Funniest thing happened last trip out. Ugly, o' 
course, but funny fit to kill. My mate — a man's 
mate's the fellow that commands the tug that holds 
the other end of his sweep — my mate was my broth- 
er-in-law, so to speak. Henery, his name was; an' 
Henery bein' older'n me, an' havin' married the 
older sister o' my wife, he was always kind o' puttin' 
hisself above me. We was good friends, you under- 
stand. We'd worked together, back home, fer some- 
thin' like twenty year, an' Henery was the best 
friend I had anywheres. Still, he was always pridin' 
himself on knowin' a bit more'n me. It was him 
learned me the tug business, an' he never could think 
o' me 'cept as a ig'orant beginner. He was espe- 
cially proud o' his sea-sight an' especially con- 
tempt'us o' mine. 

"Well, we was sent out to sweep a new field, ten 
mile' down the coast. It was a place as had always 
been clear afore, but this time the Germans 'd got 
in an' laid a dickens of a lot of sub-eggs there. 

"Water was kind o' rough, an' we was pitchin' 



174 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

consid'ble. I was standin' for'ard, keepin' an eye 
out for mines ahead o' my tug, an' Henery, he was 
standin' for'ard aboard his'n for the same purpose. 
All the time, he kep' warnin' me to be more careful. 

" *You glue your eyes on the water !' he was al- 
ways yellin'. *Don't have to look at me when you 
talk. Keep your fool eyes on the water, or you'll 
get blowed up, that's what'll happen to you, sonny,' 
says he. 

"It kind o' got on my nerves, that did. I had a 
good mind to sass him back, times. Sort o' glad I 
didn't, now. 

*'Well, bye an' bye, havin' knifed about three — 
mebbe four — mines with the sweeps, we was goin' 
along in the thick o' the nest, when all to once Hen- 
ery, he yells fit to bust a lung : 

" 'Look out ! Look out ! You blank-blank fool, 
where be your eyes? Port your helm! There's a 
mine dead ahead o' you ! Didn't I tell you to watch 
where you was goin' ?' 

"An' — d'you know? — he hadn't no more'n got 
done the last word o' cussin' me out when — bang ! — 
his own tug hits a mine an's blowed to smithereens. 

"That was five days ago. They ain't found Hen- 
ery yet. Don't quite know how'll tell my wife's sis- 
ter : she'll think Henery was keerless. It was ugly, 
o' course, but funny fit to kill." 

I have said that these tugs came over under the 
wings of a mother-ship: I wish that space would 
permit an adequate description of the ship that is 







Sea-eggs laid by the Germans 




2* 
IS 



'# 



THE BLOW-UP AND MEND-UP 175 

now their mother in port — and is, at the same time, 
mother to all the other craft of our Navy operating 
in French waters. Even the barest possible mention 
of that wonderful vessel will, I fear, take up a 
goodly portion of a chapter that began by being a 
chapter about mine-sweeps. 

She is a former collier, this mother-ship — 12,800 
tons and 467 feet over all. For two months of her 
long life she was base ship at a target-range ; she was 
three years and four months at the Boston Navy 
Yard, and now, carrying four five-inch guns, she is 
just enough of a battle-ship to protect herself. At 
sea, she has a mighty roll, but she is what they call 
in the Navy a "good goer," and her towing appa- 
ratus is the best we have thus far produced. 

"She could tow the Leviathan," her commander 
proudly told me, and the Leviathan's clumsy bulk 
recalled the name of Germany's greatest liner. 

Once the mother of sixteen fighters, she mothered 
at Bermuda, forty-eight craft — American, British, 
French — of nearly every known war- type. She set 
out for France in February last, dragging three dis- 
abled armed yachts and a British drifter behind her 
and surrounded — for she was too valuable to lose — 
by a little fleet of destroyers. Now she rests well 
within the Base-harbour, but she can go out if need 
be, and not a few of her complement dream of a day 
when she will do so. 

Her mission is to keep in condition everything 
that the forces at the French Base need in their day's 



176 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

work. There is an average of eight vessels always 
nestling under her wings, undergoing repairs. Be- 
side her is her subsidiary corps of assistants: a 
squadron of tugs that will tow in injured vessels, or 
carry mechanics and tools to mend such vessels at 
sea. 

I remember going out to her in the Admiral's 
launch and noting how tremendous she seemed amid 
the clustering destroyers and armed yachts. Her 
sides were flung open to make more easy the en- 
trance of battered machinery, yet her decks — the 
topmost crowded with huge cranes — were as clean 
as if she were not a floating machine-shop, but a 
model cannery somewhere ashore. A number of 
French naval officers were aboard, making drawings 
of the things they saw in order to reproduce them 
for their own navy ; an English naval lieutenant was 
with them : 

"France has one dismantled warship to do this 
sort of work," said he, nodding at the mother-ship's 
bridge by way of including all her activities. "As 
for us, we've got a few rather marvelous boats built 
to pull up a sunken sub, and we keep a few repair- 
craft working. But, by jove, we've got nothing that 
compares with this girl — absolutely nothing." 

So far, indeed, this mother-ship is incomparable. 
*'She can make anything but steel castings," said one 
of her officers, "and she can weld one of those when 
it's brought in broken." She has her own carpenter 
shop, metalographic-shop, electric plant, a refriger- 



THE BLOW-UP AND MEND-UP 177 

ating outfit and a still that manages 4,100 gallons of 
water every day. 

Primarily, of course, she is just something that 
floats built around an iron-works, the walls of a ship 
surrounding two great iron decks, the top one only 
a huge balcony that circles the lower. Below, a fur- 
nace is in blast; men are carrying out a big tub of 
molten metal where from fly sparks as from a dozen 
Roman-candles. All about are the forge and smithy, 
drills and drill-presses, metal saws that bite through 
iron bars as if they were so much wood, repair-shops 
for the curing of every sort of sick tool. Between 
binoculars with a broken lens and a splintered piece 
of eighteen-inch steam-pipe, there is nothing that 
can't be here again made usable. Injured radio 
outfits are put into shape, pumps and valves are 
made and remade, wheels milled, engines "lined 
up." 

I saw a one-ton casting of brass made here and a 
similar casting of iron; I saw the very nature of 
guns changed in a few hours, and once, going out 
with one of the mother-ship's tugs, I saw a gang of 
her men place the torpedo-tubes in a destroyer at 
sea and install a set of depth-charge chutes — all in 
one day. 

Every transport that limps into that harbour car- 
ries its troubles to this lady-doctor. When some- 
body needed sirens and was told that there was 
none left in France, the mother-ship undertook to 
make them — and filled the contract. A complicated 



178 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

job that was brought to her by some French officers, 
who poHtely hoped that they might see the thing ac- 
complished within five days, was promised comple- 
tion within as many hours — and the promise was 
kept to the minute. Tucked upon her main deck are 
offices that carry accounts of the entire Naval Force 
under Admiral Wilson; tucked close by are the 
butcher-shops and kitchen, and the bakery that pro- 
duces four hundred loaves a day for the mechanics 
and crew. But these are only minor matters: the 
big task in the life of the mother-ship is to keep the 
fleet shipshape. 

"There may be some things we can't do," said her 
commander, "but there's nothing we won't try." 



'We're first to fight" we always said; 

Said the Army: 'Never fear: 
This job's an Army -job, and so 
You'll do no fighting here! 
You're very well 
For a little spell 
At a port in time of peace; 
But here in France 
We lead the dance — 
You're First Men to Police! 

CHORUS 

'Top- 
Cop— 

Cop- 
Cop! 
(Say, Bill, when do we eat?) 
You've fought around the big round world, 

But here you zvalk a beat!" 
Armed with a night-stick, bless your soul. 
Doing a city street-patrol; 
(Gee, will it never stop?) 
Tramping from Beersheba to Dan 
To get a whack at an Army-man, 
(Chop!— 
Chop!) 
I may have fought in a dozen wars. 
But here Vm doing the M. F.'s chores, — 
Cop!! 

"We're first to fight," we kept it up; 
Said the Army: "Cut it out! 
We're real A-i's, 
We tote the guns 
And put the Huns 

To rout. 



From black Bordeaux 
To Neuf chateau 

Police until you drop; 
The best Marine 
Is green — 
Sea-green — 

He's nothing but a cop!'' 

CHORUS 

'Top—", etc. 

And then Friend Fritz took off his coat. 

And we heard some one say: 
*' There's a hurry -call and an S. O. S, 
From up Cantigny way!" 
And — oh, my hat! — 
Right off the bat: 
"We're smashed to smithereens; 
For God's sake, friend. 
Hump up and send 
American Marines!" 

CHORUS 

First — 

First — 

First — 

First! 
(Say, Bill, now was I right?) 
We were the first to volunteer, 

And we are the first to fight! 
Toting the good old gun again, 
Who are the nail-biting fighting-men, 
Boiling-point, Fahrenheit? 



Now that there's more than parades to do, 
Who do they yell for, sonny, — who — 
Day — 

And Night? 
Pocket your club in your Doughboy-jeans 
(I guess you knozv what that order means!): 
We are the true 

Sea-blue 

Marines — 
We are the First to Fight! 



CHAPTER XIII 



MARINES ASHORE 



HIGH noon of a calm spring day, 1918 — but the 
sun is invisible. 

There is not a cloud in the heavens — but you can 
see scarcely twenty yards ahead of you. 

The billows of smoke burn your eyes ; they choke 
you ; they strangle. 

The noise strikes like a bludgeon. It hammers, 
blow on blow, against the ear-drums. 

It is as if this were a pit in a foundry. 

Really, it is all that is left of what was once a vil- 
lage street, and over there, behind those few black- 
ened stones that used to be a cottage, are three men 
— one dead, one dying and one ready to die. 

American troops had held that village. Momen- 
tarily, all had fallen back. All but those three. 
They had driven off an entire company of Germans 
— at the price of the life of one of the Americans. 
Then the Germans had returned to the attack — over 
the bodies of their comrades left there after the first 
assault. They were driven back again this time — 
at the price of a fatal wound to one of the two re- 
maining Americans. Now, of a sudden, they 
charged again around the corner. 

182 



MARINES ASHORE 183 

The dying man lifted his head : 

''Beat it, Tom," he said. "Get away while the 
going's good." 

Tom slowly poured a trickle of water from his 
canteen through the lips of the dying man. 

'I've forgot how to run," said Tom — and he 
smiled as he said it. 

"There's no use your staying here: I'm all in." 

'Tm not." 

"But you can't whip that whole company." 

"No," said Tom; "I guess I can't. But I can 
keep 'em busy for a while." 

He picked up his rifle. He crouched behind the 
pile of stones. He fired. 

As he fired, the wounded man died. 

The Germans charged. 

Tom fired again and again. Until the onrushing 
Germans were within ten feet of him, he aimed care- 
fully. Then he fired point-blank. 

A moment later, they were upon him, and he was 
using his rifle as a club. 

The returning Americans found him so engaged. 
He had "kept the enemy busy" until the relief ar- 
rived. 

As they carried him to a first-aid station near 
Cantigny, his litter passed the commanding officer, 
who had already heard Tom's story. The C. O. was 
an infantry officer, a West Pointer. 

"That was brave work," said he to Tom, 

"Thank you, sir," said Tom, 



184 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"But it was useless," said the officer. "Why did 
you do it?" 

"Oh, I don't know," Tom answered; "just to keep 
up to the reputation of my corps. You see, Fm a 
Marine." 

Thomas understood his duty. The days when our 
fathers sang Captain Jinks are passed, and passed 
the days when our grandfathers branded the Marine 
as a stupid oaf by replying to any unbelievable story 
with the smiHng assertion that it had better be ad- 
dressed to the Marines. Torcy has made us forget 
such slurs, and Veuilly Wood and Cantigny; we 
know now that the motto of the Marine Corps is : 
Obey orders and then some. 

In 1740, England organized three regiments of 
American Marines in New York and, while their 
field officers were created by royal appointment, 
their company commanders were nominated by the 
colonies. Thirty-five years later, the Continental 
Congress declared "that the compact between the 
crown and Massachusetts Bay" was "dissolved," 
and within six months of that declaration — that is to 
say, on November 10th, 1775, or about eight months 
before the proclamation of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence — the Marine Corps was organized. In the 
Revolution, they landed at New Providence, in the 
Bahamas, capturing the British forts as their part 
in the first battle of our Navy; they seized the Gen- 
eral Monk in Delaware Bay ; they fought with John 
Paul Jones. In the Mexican War, they stormed 



MARINES ASHORE 185 

Chapultepec under Twiggs and Reynolds. They 
were with Perry in Japan; they reenfofced Sumter 
and Pickens; they occupied Guantanamo and held 
it against Spanish odds, fought at Santiago and 
landed at Cavite. In the battle of Tientsin they did 
their bit, and they marched to Peking for the relief 
of the American Legation; their march across hos- 
tile Samar in 1901 wrote one of the heroic pages in 
our history, and it was they that were the only 
American troops engaged in the disarmament of the 
insurgent Cubans in 1906. **The work recently 
accomplished by them in Vera Cruz and Hayti," 
wrote Admiral Dewey in 1915, ''has fully justified 
my belief that no finer military organization exists 
in the world to-day." 

Now, it has been my fortune to see something of 
their life and to gather some examples of a little 
of the Marines' fighting in France. The best way to 
begin any mention of them is by echoing Admiral 
Dewey's words. I remember well the first conversa- 
tion that I heard after going among them : 

"Sir, I thank you for permission to go ashore." 

"Aren't you the cook?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"How long do you want?" 

"Just till six bells, sir." 

"Who're you leaving in charge of the galley?" 

**Mott, sir." 

"Mott? Where's Schultz?" 

"On the binnacle-list, sir. Hit the deck yesterday 



186 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

an' sprained his ankle. But there's only slumgullion 
to get, sir, an' Mott's all right at that." 

''Better go before the mast. If the skipper hasn't 
any objection, Til give you shore-leave." 

It sounded like the opening of a sea-romance by 
Joseph Conrad, yet I was on dry land. The only 
canvas was that of a tent or two among rows of 
Adrian huts; the sole funnel w^as the gaunt chim- 
ney of an open-air oven; the nearest thing to a mast 
was a flag-pole. 

An enlisted man was asking an officer if he might 
walk from this cantonment to town, returning at 
eleven o'clock, and was explaining that, his chief 
assistant having hurt himself in a fall, the beef-stew 
for mess would be prepared in the kitchen by a com- 
petent substitute. Whereto the officer was replying 
that it would be necessary for the applicant to go 
to the Captain's office and obtain there an assurance 
that the petition had the Captain's O. K. In brief, I 
was in a camp, ashore, of the U. S. Marines. 

Kipling was right. That poem of his about the 
British ''Jollies" jumps into your mind the moment 
you become a guest of their American counterpart 
and continues to justify itself so long as you remain. 
Both because he carries his sea-lingo ashore and his 
shore-rifle afloat, and because he is as much an am- 
phibian in duties as in mind, I can think of the 
Marine, not as a "special chrysanthemum," but only 
as "soldier an' sailor, too." 

He has done police duty across half the world — 



MARINES ASHORE 187 

from Porto Rica to the Philippines — when I first 
saw him, he was poHcing in France. He has fought 
in Cuba and the islands of the Pacific, in Mexico 
and Hayti — everywhere, he has justifiably boasted, 
he was "The First to Fight" — and now, although 
a little hurt at not being allowed to be the earliest to 
pull a trigger among our men in Europe — his had at 
least the distinction of being the earliest and readiest 
unit of them that arrived for such a purpose on the 
eastern shore of the Atlantic. 

The first Marine that I saw when I came aboard 
was one of a squad unloading stone from a railway 
car for the construction of a pier; around about 
were similarly employed squads of Engineers and 
negro contract-labourers from Louisiana. The last 
Marine I saw on that same day was, with business- 
like calm, subduing five tall men by means of one 
short club. 

Of him, when he had refused my proffered help 
with quiet scorn and secured his prisoners by his 
own unaided efforts, I asked a question. 

"Why don't the infantry care for us?" he snapped 
back. He nodded at his five charges. ^'That's why ! 
O' course they say we go out of our way to beat 'em 
up, but o' course it ain't true. Our job's to keep 
things quiet, Rainbow Division er no Rainbow Di- 
vision, an' we can do it best by not seein' fellows 
unless they want to be seen." 

"Still," I urged, "you don't dislike it — this sort of 
thing?" 



188 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

He grinned broadly. 

'' Tirst to fight !' " he chuckled. 

To the other Marine just mentioned — to the mem- 
ber of the stone-hauling squad — I put, I recall, an- 
other query: 

"What do you think of Pershing?" 

''Well," he answered, "Pershing don't seem to 
think much of us." 

That man was disappointed because his corps had 
to cart stone when it wanted to fight. He might 
have argued that General Pershing thought a good 
deal of the Marines because he trusted so much to 
their performance. 

For the Marines were everywhere. They were 
the first Americans you saw when you landed : they 
were maintaining order at our ports of entry. All 
the way across the country and through the Ameri- 
can Camp, it is a Marine that you note at every sta- 
tion — a Marine that comes up to you with blank- 
book and poised pencil with the demand, firm but 
polite : "Let me make a note of your movement-or- 
ders, sir." In Paris, as in every French town and 
village where there are United States troops, there 
are also the Marines, on patrol-duty by night and 
traffic-control by day, their blue sea-service uniforms 
changed for land uniforms of khaki and around 
their left arms the red brassard bearing the black 
initials "M. P." 

"What are those fellows, sir?" a Gordon High- 
lander once asked me on the Rue de Rivoli. 



MARINES ASHORE 189 

"Marines," I told him. 'The letters stand for 
'Military Police.' " 

''Oh," he said, "I heard you had some of your 
Congressmen over here, an' I was awonderin' were 
these them, an' if the letters meant 'Member o' Par- 
lymint.' " 

Finally, at the seaside cities, the Marines were 
both "shore-cops" and stevedores. — "But only for a 
little while," they one and all assured the questioner, 
even the officers : "The Brass Hats are sure to let 
us fight soon." 

"Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, 
and 'is work is never through ; 
*E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, 

nor 'e isn't one of the crew. 
'E's a kind of a giddy horumfrodite^ — 
soldier an' sailor too !" 

So many of our camps in France, save in the dis- 
trict of the big American Camp proper, are on the 
grounds of old chateaux that, when I first went 
there, I found nothing that was any longer strange 
in the presence of a full-blown Marines' cantonment 
among what had once been the vast formal gardens 
of an old Girondist family. The ancient house still 
stands untouched, though the Stars and Stripes fly 
from a turret beside the Tricoleur; in the grounds 
nearest it, I noted, among the inevitable tokens of 
disuse, only one sign of decay — the box-seat of a 
summer-house had burst open and displayed a cro- 



190 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

quet-set, stored there, most likely, since the fatal 
August of '14 — yet down the hill swarm the rows 
of Adrian huts that have grown into a city between 
last spring and now. The Girondist owners have 
left their estate, and along the paths where 
they and their fathers strolled now hurry two 
types of a new order : German prisoners, conducted 
by French guards, often only half their size, to their 
work of ditch-digging; and American Marines 
swinging along to the multitudinous duties that 
make their service unique. 

If, however, you must have soldiers of any sort 
on your front lawn or in your back yard, I commend 
the "Jollies." They have two salient characteristics : 
their ability to make something out of nothing and 
to do it quickly, results in their establishing them- 
selves at once and with a minimum of damage to 
surroundings; and, since they bring ashore with 
them the sea tradition of cleanliness and order, they 
are; when not the first to fight, the First to Clean. 

I recall a French seaport at which none of our 
men had ever landed before a certain ship began 
to disgorge an equal number of soldiers and Ma- 
rines : the latter were under canvas before the former 
had left the dock; the Marines had even collected 
kindling from ash-heaps and had their cookstoves 
going. One night, I saw a newly-arrived company 
of them march into camp ; when I visited their quar- 
ters at 6 a. m., you would have supposed that they 
had been born and bred there. 



MARINES ASHORE 191 

"All our own work but the stone- foundations for 
the ovens," a sergeant assured me, "an' we'd have 
done that, only these French Johnnies insisted that 
it was a job for the Boche prisoners." 

He was a company-clerk, that sergeant, and in the 
tiny space allowed him there was not room for a 
bed and an opened army-desk at one and the same 
time. All the first night he stayed awake construct- 
ing a bunk that folds upward on the principle of the 
upper-berth in a Pullman car. 

Sanitation the Marines have learned through hard 
necessity, through duty in tropic lands where, until 
their arrival, the natives casually threw their slops 
out of the windows. Now every member of the 
corps has its rules at his fingers' ends ; their practise 
speedily becomes the second nature of the rawest 
recruit, is a matter of corps pride. The clothes-lines 
are full each morning; whenever there is sunlight, 
the Marines "break out the bunks," which is to say 
that they drag their beds and bedclothes into the 
open for an airing. 

"They think for 'emselves an' they steal for 
'emselves, an' they never ask what's to do, 

But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed 
before our iDugles blew. 

No ! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes — soldier an' 
sailor too." 

What sort of men are they? They will answer 
that interrogation with a ready brevity: "The 



192 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

best," they will say — and, after living among them, I 
am not sure that they are altogether wrong. But they 
are also all sorts. Edwin Denby, formerly American 
Minister to China, is a Marine. So are Ernest Glen- 
denning, the actor; Warren Straton, an Oxford 
Rhodes scholar; ''Dots" Miller, once captain and 
second baseman of the St. Louis National League 
Baseball-team; William J. McCoy, nephew of that 
Major-General Barnett who is Commandant of the 
Marines at Washington; Frederick W. Maurer, the 
arctic explorer ; Eddie Mahan, once a Harvard foot- 
ball star, and Peter Garlow, perhaps the best athlete 
ever graduated from the Carlisle Indian School. 

By one of the odd freaks of their anomalous law 
of organization, their surgeons and chaplains are 
sailors, whereas all the rest of the corps is, in each 
individual case, one-half land and one-half sea. Per- 
haps because distance makes for romance, the ma- 
jority of our Marines come, it appears, from the 
plains; there is the band of a state agricultural col- 
lege in the Mississippi Valley that enlisted as a 
unit, and across the way is housed a company 
seventy members of which joined in a body from 
the university of one of our central northwestern 
commonwealths. Most of them never saw the ocean 
before they volunteered for service. 

''You know," one of these told me, "when we raw 
fellows got on the transport, we found they'd re- 
membered only the sailor side of us and given us 
hammocks to sleep in — just hammocks, only half 




■= ^ 



© 4 



O 




m 



MARINES ASHORE 193 

too short for a grown man and two-thirds too nar- 
row. We'd never been to sea before; it was all we 
could do to climb into the things, and more than we 
could do to stay there when the ship began to act up. 
So we just rolled 'em up for pillows an' slept on the 
floor." 

Don't, however, suppose that the majority of 
Marines are green men. Though by far the larger 
part volunteered, by far the larger part volunteered 
long ago. Some day somebody will write a romance 
of the Marines, and when he does, he need not 
draw on his imagination: he need only collect the 
data — when their stolid modesty will vouchsafe it — 
from such veterans as we have here, who began as 
those boys from Kansas and Minnesota are begin- 
ning now. He need but tell the story of that ser- 
geant of thirty, who looks twenty-five and enlisted 
at sixteen ; of how he ran away to sea ; of that cloud- 
less day when he rowed under fire across the unpro- 
tected strip of water to patrol the streets of Vera 
Cruz, and of the succeeding night, when he, and three 
other men, held a freight car loaded with explosives, 
against an armed Mexican mob. He need only gain 
the confidence of this lad from Pittsburgh to learn 
of hand-to-hand fights that began against outnum- 
bering Mexican regulars, drawn from their cover on 
roofs and from behind chimneys, and ended in re- 
pelling the rear-attacks of the Mexican police. 

''You see that grizzled old fellow over there?" a 
Captain asked me. 



194 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

He himself was young enough to have been the 
"old fellow's" son, but the old fellow was still tough 
enough to have been the Captain's twin brother. 

''Well, he's had a lot of it — Philippines, Boxer 
RebelHon, Vera Cruz and Hayti. You know, in the 
Marines, when we can't think of the generic name 
for anything, we call it a 'gadget' or a 'gilguy.' 
Now, this man has won a Congressional Medal 
and has another coming. When we sighted the 
French coast, I was standing, where he couldn't see 
me, just behind him ; and I heard him say, while he 
looked over things in general : 

"'I got one o' them gadgets now an' one on its 
way. I wonder if I'll get another over here.' " 

But it is hard to make the Marine talk. Whether 
he retains the credulity with which sea tradition 
credits him, I don't know, but I do know that his 
past sea-equipment does not include the love of im- 
probable yarn-spinning that land-legends credit to 
the sailor. Once I rode to town in the side-car of 
a motorcycle; the man that drove me — in the Ma- 
rines' language he vvas thus the "coxswain of a 
steam-cycle" — had not a word to say for himself, 
and yet he was the man of the medals. 

Do you remember a certain untoward incident of 
the Spanish-American War — the occasion when the 
U. S. Ship Dolphin mistakenly shelled the Ameri- 
can trenches? There were Marines in those 
trenches. They were defenseless under that fire; 
they had not even semaphore-flags with which to 



MARINES ASHORE 195 

communicate to their comrades afloat. One young 
Marine took a pair of bayonets and two handker- 
chiefs, constructed signal-flags of them, jumped out 
of the trenches and, standing there with death rain- 
ing about him, snapped out "C. F. — C. F. — C. F.," 
that is, "Cease Firing," over and over again, until 
the Dolphin's gunners realized their mistake. 

That was how he got his first Congressional Medal 
of Honor. When our Marines went into action in 
France, this man volunteered to take a heavily-laden 
convoy of ammunition-wagons along a road that was 
being scoured by German shells and machine-guns. 
Somebody had to do it in order to relieve a des- 
perate situation; Sergeant-Major Quick did it — and 
received his other gadget, our new Distinguished 
Service Cross. 

"How do you get along with the negro com- 
panies?" I asked my Captain. 

As I spoke, a negro was passing. Like some of 
his fellows, he wore, not the service khaki, but the 
older sort of uniform — blue with yellow facings. 

"All right now," said the Captain, "but there was 
some feeling at first between the drafted negroes 
and those who had preceded them in service. The 
drafted ones were ordered to wear the blue-and- 
yellow, and felt it was an invidious distinction. The 
commanding officer locked 'em all up together. Then 
he would mysteriously remove, under guard, a squad 
at a time. He'd take the removed squad aside, man 
by man, and 'reason' with them; when one of 'em 



196 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

weakened, he'd get him into blue-and-yellow quick 
and march him past the guard-house windows. The 
negroes inside would see that this fellow had done 
what was required of him and was free, whereas 
their imaginations invented all sorts of terrors as to 
the fate of the rest of the squad. Inside of three 
days, the whole lot had overcome their prejudices 
against the yellow-and-blue. They're all useful men 
now — and, besides, our dogs like 'em." 

That is another important branch of the Marine 
Corps — its dogs. Every regiment has one or two. 
This regiment has three, and a couple of them lay 
beside me one afternoon: Poilu and Cognac, little 
Gallic beasts acquired on this side of the water. Oni- 
waminthe, I regret to say, wasn't there. 

"Oniwaminthe?" I remember repeating, when 
first an old private named him to me. 

''Yes, sir, that's it. We called him after the place 
in Hayti where we picked him up. Spell it? We 
don't spell it — don't ever have to. If you want to 
spell it, you'll have to look it up on a map." 

There w^as no map of the Carribean in that camp 
of France, so I shall stick to the phonetic spelling — 
phonetic, that is, in accord with the Marine's pro- 
nunciation. 

"He came into our lines in Hayti," began my in- 
formant, "on the day — " 

"What kind of dog is he ?" I interrupted. 

"What kind? No kind. Just dog." 

"A mongrel?" 



MARINES ASHORE 197 

"Not much!" 

'Then what kind?" 

"The white kind. A Haytian dog. Well, he came 
into our Hnes the day America went into this Euro- 
pean war. The United States had a battle that day 
in Hayti. Didn't know that, did you, sir? It was 
all buried, back home, in the big news from Wash- 
ington. Still, it's a fact all right. We had a battle 
that would have been all over the front pages of 
newspapers five years ago; an', in the middle of it, 
this white dog came trotting into our lines, with 
bullets dropping all around him, as calm as if he 
was just paying a New Year's call. So we liked 
him right off. You see, he as much as said : 'White 
hair — white flag — honorable capitulation.' We 
adopted him an' named him Oniwaminthe. 

"He was a sea-dog from the very first. Why, 
comin' across the Bay o' Biscay, I was in the crow's 
nest one day about twilight, an' there was a heavy 
groundswell on. The old deck was goin' up on one 
side an' down on the other. I watched a company 
of Marines drillin' just below me. They were in 
company- front an' were all veterans, but every time 
the boat'd roll, the w^iole line o' men'd slide forward 
or backward. All but Oniwaminthe. He'd took up 
his position as a sort o' file-closer, in the rear, an' 
that dog never gave an inch." 

"Where is he now?" I asked. 

"Well, sir, I don't like to say anything against 
him, an' I know he'll turn up again, now, in a day 



198 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

or two ; but the fact is, France has been too much for 
Oniwaminthe. It's gone to his head. Since we've 
been ashore, he's formed the habit of breaking 
camp." 

"You mean he runs away?" 

''Well, not exactly that ; but he goes to town with- 
out leave, an' that ain't regular. Our men don't find 
so much temptation that way, because the language 
is still strange to them, though they're beginning to 
pick it up; but, you see, Oniwaminthe is a born 
what-do-you-call-it — Lothario — an', bein' Haytian, 
of course he speaks the same dog-French these 
French dogs do. He comes back lookin' like an 
Australian after his first night in London — but he 
does come^back." 

A banjo tinkled from a near-by hut; In the hut in 
which we were talking there still hung decorations 
that had been put up for Easter. 

''We played baseball on Easter — two games," said 
my friend, "an' the whole city came out to them. 
The sport was a new one, an' it staggered 'em, but 
not so much as the cheer-leaders. We had real 
cheer-leaders; they'd stand out in front and beat 
time with their whole bodies, an' pretty soon the 
French was so busy watchin' them that they couldn't 
look at the diamond. What d'you think? They'd 
never seen a cheer-leader before ! It's wilder than 
anything the scuttle-butt gossips could make up." 

There it was again — this time the "scuttle-butt" ! 
Ships are full of rumor, and rumors, at sea, orig- 



MARINES ASHORE 199 

inate in talk exchanged around the scuttle-butt, or 
drinking-barrel, so that all wild stories are branded 
as "scuttle-butt yarns." Nothing, however, that 
ever sprang from the scuttle-butt could be stranger 
than the terms in which it is conveyed. The Marine, 
as I've said, carries all his sea terms ashore, and his 
vocabulary is almost entirely nautical. 

When he stops what he has been doing, he "be- 
lays" it; when you tell him to prepare to do some- 
thing else, you order him to "stand by" for it, and 
when he is called before his commanding officer, he 
is brought "up before the mast." Though he falls 
on a country road out of sight of the sea, he "hits 
the deck;" when he is slightly ill, he goes "on the 
binnacle-list," and when he must at last enter hos- 
pital, even if a motor- ambulance carries him to a 
building at a street-corner, it carries him to the 
"sick bay." If he knocks a companion down through 
exuberance of good spirits, he goes to "the brig" 
for a day or two. He gets a stripe for every en- 
listment, and the stripes are "hashmarks;" he keeps 
himself "shipshape" as much ashore as afloat; the 
kitchen is the "galley" wherever it may be, and a 
captain is always a "skipper." 

On ship, at leisure hours in the evening, the Ma- 
rines light a lamp in their quarters and smoke ; they 
call it "lighting the smoking-lamp," and in camp 
their dismissal to leisure remains "lighting the smok- 
ing-lamp," even when there is no lamp about and 
the tobacco is exhausted. Their Central and South 



200 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

American service has contributed "pronto" for 
"quickly," has twisted manana into "slowly," and 
they now use "hombre" for "prisoner." What new 
terms they will learn from their work in France, 
Heaven only knows. 

It is all sorts of work, in all sorts of weather, at 
every hour of the clock. Here Marines were haul- 
ing stone with Engineers and contract-labourers. 
Throughout the American Zone in France, they were 
the policemen that never sleep. Now the day has 
come when they are holding their bit of the line 
against the Boche. Boys from western farms and 
men from Manila and Vera Cruz, they are pure 
grain that is being poured into every one of a dozen 
of the horrible hoppers of war. 

"An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all 

kinds of things. 
Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 

'eathen kings .... 
There isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar 

don't know, nor do — 
'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse — soldier an' 

sailor too." 

What the American Marine made of his work 
when that work at last brought him into the fighting- 
line in France, the world already knows. His 
medical-corps set up a first-aid station under the very 
noses of the enemy machine-guns at Chateau- 
Thierry; one of his corporals, single-handed, fought 



MARINES ASHORE 201 

his way through a wood full of Germans, while 
bearing on his back his wounded lieutenant. In one 
capacity or another, it was the American Marine 
that first made the Teutons realize America as a con- 
siderable factor in the land-fighting of the world 
war. And the Teutons straightway named our Ma- 
rines Tcufel-Hunden. 

''We sure did give those Heinies something to 
worry about," was the way that a wounded, but 
grinning, member of the corps expressed it from his 
cot in a Paris hospital. 

Such men are the efficiently spectacular expression 
of the work of our Naval Forces in France. 



Nurse, Fm feelin' dreadful sick — • 

(Hold my hand?) 
Take my pulse; it's awfid quick — 

(Understand?) 
Dont knozv zvhat I'd ever do, 
Lyin' here, if 'tweren't for you: 
This here sick bay's comfy to 

Beat the band! 

Nurse, I need some biickin* up: 
Pat my head! 

That's not slum? Then tilt the cup- 
Time I fed. 

I don't like to loaf here, Miss, 

But — home never was like this! 

(Kind o' need a mother's kiss, 
Goin' to bed!) 

Every time you start away, 

I get worse ; 
Wisht your duties let you stay — 

Fetch the hearse! 
If you "can't remain and shirk" 
Fll (Fm zvhat, you say? A Turk?) 
Die — or else go back to work, 

Nurse! 



CHAPTER XIV 

BASE HOSPITAL 

ON the fifth of October, 1917, there landed in 
France a volunteer medical unit largely re- 
cruited by the Pennsylvania Hospital, of Philadel- 
phia. They were held in an Army cantonment at 
the place of landing until the sixteenth. On that 
day they had packed their entire impedimenta. 
Within twenty- four hours they had arrived at the 
Base-port and there set up and had in working order 
a full-fledged Navy Hospital. 

Of course such a feat was admirable ; so was much 
of the work with which the same unit followed it; 
but it is not because of this that I mention these 
things. They are no more remarkable than many 
others performed by similar units; they are merely 
typical. It is the fact that they are typical which 
makes them worthy of at least a hasty record. 

This Pennsylvania unit was among the first ten 
thousand men of the American Naval Forces to reach 
France, and its surgeons and physicians were all 
practitioners of standing in their professions. To 
those professions they had devoted their entire lives ; 
they had given up, generally, lucrative practises to 
ofifer their services to their country — those who had 
not done so had suffered even more, because they 

203 



204 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

were beginners that, returned, would have painfully 
to rebegin building-up their civilian clientele — and 
not the least laudable quality that I observed among 
them was that which both kept them silent regarding 
what they had put aside and lent them enthusiasm 
in their duties abroad. Less than a month after 
their arrival, they were even thoroughly navalized ; 
their patients, of course, were only naval men, and 
the very language of those doctors had become the 
language of the sea; the attendants were the "crew," 
a bed set up was a bed "broken out," and a ward, if 
you please, was a "deck." 

I may not say that they had an easy time of it. 
The building in which they were finally housed had 
of old been a Carmelite Nunnery, but had since seen 
a very different sort of service. Of ancient con- 
struction, it was surrounded, when the Americans 
came there, by a dry moat in which odd cows and 
casual pigs were feeding, and this was but a symbol 
of the conditions obtaining within the house itself. 
It is true that certain tokens of its ancient religious 
character still endured there, yet even these were not 
always advantageous to its new intent : in some of 
the cubbyholes that had to be converted into wards 
there still hung boards emblazoned with pious ad- 
monitions, doubtless edifying to the nuns that used 
to sleep beneath them, but scarcely calculated to 
cheer the patients now ensconsed — one read : 

"Be warned ; you do not know what moment may 
be your lavSt." 



BASE HOSPITAL 205 

Many of the rooms had been cells, nearly all were 
what the incoming doctors described as "chopped 
up"; yet the present owners not only refused per- 
mission for the felling of a single tree in the yard 
to make space for some necessary addition — they 
would not allow the knocking down of a single parti- 
tion or hear of the breaking of a hole in the roof to 
permit the passage of a stove-pipe. 

Nevertheless, ingenuity and persuasion combined 
toward accomplishment. By making the best of 
what existed and by effecting no change that was not 
mandatory for the well-being of their sick, the phy- 
sicians and surgeons achieved a genuine hospital. 
This week, the sailor that lay beneath the nitch in the 
wall holding a figure of the Blessed Virgin might be 
a Roman Catholic; his week-hence successor might 
be an atheist. The chapel, its altar reverently cov- 
ered and a phonograph established beside the font, 
was full of cots on which lay men of every one of 
that variety of creeds in which America rejoices; 
outside, a group of tents held thirty sick men each. 

In the same manner, the staff overcame difficulties 
of home birth. When, for instance, it was found 
that the imported supplies did not include a centri- 
fuge, a special messenger was dispatched, across 
France, to buy one; it took two days to 
discover a centrifuge in Paris, but the job was done. 
While a requisition sent in on December 31st was 
waiting until April 15th to be filled by the responsi- 
ble department in America, the American Red Cross 



206 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

headquarters in Paris were applied to and, without 
charge, filled the bill. Some remaining vestiges of 
red tape in the Navy require that supplies be bought 
only from firms nominated by the Navy Depart- 
ment, and it is useless to argue that, when a firm so 
nominated may be located in Chicago, time could be 
saved and articles of equal worth procured by plac- 
ing the order with a reputable Brooklyn concern; 
but the inventiveness of these doctors at our French 
Base-port managed somehow to find a vv^ay around 
such delays and inconveniences. 

I have just referred to the Red Cross. Here, as 
elsewhere in the foreign operations of both our 
Navy and Army, the Red Cross has been invaluable. 
In the American Camp, a Major-General told me 
that he, for his part, did not know what he w^ould 
have done without that organization. 

"When we had to move our division at a mo- 
ment's notice," he said, "we didn't have trucks suffi- 
cient for the work ; v/e applied to the Red Cross, and 
it supplied the necessary trucks within a few hours. 
At our new quarters, it was the Red Cross that lent 
us the carts needed for hauling stone in the repair 
of the roads. Once, reviewing my men, I found that 
the home bureau responsible had fallen down so 
badly in the matter of socks that, in midwinter, none 
of my men had two pairs of socks, and that the pair 
the average man possessed w'asn't fit to be worn. 
Again I appealed to the Red Cross. It didn't even 
wait for the war-delayed railroad trains; it sent 



BASE HOSPITAL 207 

down a lot of socks from Paris by a caravan of mo- 
tor-cars, and, before a day and a half had passed, my 
men were fully supplied." 

It was an Army surgeon that first told me there 
was not a splint and not a bandage in his vast Base- 
hospital that had been supplied by the Army people 
in Washington, all his splints and bandages having 
come from the Red Cross. What he said, however, 
was later paralleled by what was told me at the 
Naval institution of which I am now writing. 

"Oh, we had all sorts of troubles," one of Its 
doctors cheerfully informed me. "We had an aw- 
ful time enlarging the galley" — he meant the kitchen 
— "but now, you see, we have one that cooks 1,500 
meals a day, including those for the officers and 
crew — and the officers eat just what the crew does. 
On the deck above we have an eighteen by twelve 
hall bedroom that we've turned into a diet-kitchen, 
and there, over three little gas stoves, with a total of 
eight burners, two nurses cook a hundred and eighty 
trays daily, and there are not any more than a group 
of ten of those trays that duplicates another group.'* 

Cases? This hospital treats all sorts. Close by it 
is a cemetery in which are buried fighters — French, 
Algerian, Cochin-Chinese, Portuguese, English and 
Russian, but there are few graves of Americans 
among them; from that beginning of October 17th 
up to the first of last May, that hospital had lost 
almost no patients at all. 

Perhaps there is no better way to tell the story 



208 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

than to give it in the words of one of the doctors. 
What I quote is from a personal diary. 

"Oct. 5 — Landed. C. O. (i. e., Commanding Of- 
ficer) at once received orders to the effect that our 
unit should be disembarked and moved to a canton- 
ment about three miles from the town. . . . 

*'Oct. 8 — We broke out our cargo all day Sunday 
and until noon yesterday. It was loaded on Army 
trucks almost as soon as it reached the docks and 
carried to a storehouse assigned us, excepting that 
our mess-gear, mattresses, blankets, tools, lanterns, 
etc. — enough to make us self-supporting — were 
trucked out to camp, in accord with plans devised 
by the C. O. ; and also in accord with those plans, 
working parties went ahead to have the kitchen 
ready by noon to-day. Thanks to such provision, our 
troubles, apart from the mud, rain and bitter cold, 
consisted solely in meeting the overbearing attitude 
of the Army, for this is an Army camp and full of 
infantry, engineers and Army hospital units and am- 
bulance men. 

"Our quarters are in a long, low building made of 
shingled boards of sycamore. It is about 150 feet 
long and 30 wide, with a board floor and a peaked 
roof, from twelve to fifteen feet high, reinforced by 
tar-paper. Down each side of a center aisle eighteen 
inches wide run two rows of cots that stand about a 
foot apart. The men's quarters are the same as 
ours, except that they have only a dirt floor, which 
is both dusty and damp. We broke out our own 



BASE HOSPITAL 209 

cots and blankets and got as comfortable as we 
could, but as, by a flickering lamp I write this in bed, 
with my mattress slipped inside my rubber poncho 
above one blanket, with two blankets over me, my 
breath hangs in a cloud above the paper, my fingers 
are numb and I am thankful for my woollen pa- 
jamas. 

''Oct. p — We are under Army rations, and the 
chow is not nearly so good as Navy chow. We get 
the same that our men do; it figures about forty 
cents a day, paid by the government. We won't 
start officers' mess until we are more permanently 
located. 

"Our wash-house is about thirty yards from our 
quarters, and the water is certainly cold. As for the 
latrines, they are a hundred yards distant, very sani- 
tar>^ with galvanized containers about as big as a 
barrel, emptied each day by German prisoners under 
French Army direction. 

"A great many women hang about the outskirts 
of the camp, and there are more of the same sort in 
town. Numbers arrived from Paris, have already 
worked havoc. Forty per cent, of the patients in 
the Army hospital are some of the toll paid for this, 
and that figure includes only bed-cases, taking no 
account of the ambulatory types. We have cau- 
tioned our own men and not minced words. 

''Oct, II — Progress in short time: there must 
be 1,000 ambulances here, 5,000 motor-trucks, 
10,000 touring-cars and many motorcycles, field 



210 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

motor-kitchens, etc. I can now appreciate a remark 
by a Navy officer, who has been all around the world 
in an executive capacity : 

" 'You may knock the old U. S. A. as much as 
you please, but, take it from me, she is the only 
country that bores with a big augur from the start : 
all the others start with gimlets.' 

"C. O. received definite orders that we are to go 
to the American Naval Base on this coast and es- 
tablish a hospital there. The C. O. has gone ahead, 
and we expect to set out in five or six days. This 
certainly meets our approval, for we are out of luck 
here. For one thing, this weather is bad for our 
clothes. Amongst all this khaki our 'blues' make us 
look like an opera troupe, and it seems a shame to 
ruin $45 suits in a week of this mud and rain. In 
two days we hope to have the Marine Q. M. break 
out some petty-officers' uniforms, which we are go- 
ing to have altered to pass as those of officers. . . . 

''Oct. i§ — I was sent in to the Bureau of Trans- 
portation to get our cars registered and given license 
numbers — we have a 1913 rebuilt Locomobile In fair 
shape and a new white Stanley Steamer ambulance. 
All cars over here must be painted a uniform color, 
a sort of cream-gray, and carry a U. S. number. 
Our ambulance now has U. S., and a number painted 
in red letters on both sides of the hood and at the 
top of the rear, and our touring-car has U. S. and 
another number painted on both rear door-panels 
and on back. 



BASE HOSPITAL 211 

"They tried to insist on our laying the cars up for 
three days to paint them the O. D. Army color, but 
I explained that we were, and expected to remain, 
a strictly Navy organization; that we would have 
the Navy color put on when we arrived at our final 
destination, but that we couldn't tie up our cars now 
for three days. 

"This desire of certain Army officers to absorb and 
assume control over all forces is a constant source 
of annoyance. I find that going direct to the C. O. 
and using a little tact, and not dealing with lower 
grade officers, is the only way to accomplish any- 
thing, so I try to see no one less than a major. Also, 
when you solicit a favor, it is a great help if you can 
ojfer a quid pro quo, even if 3^ou can not carry it out. 

"I went to Q. M. B when we found we 

needed Marine service-uniforms to save our blues. 
He said he couldn't issue them. But I found he was 
very envious of our oil stoves. Result: yesterday 
he sent for me and said he could break out enough 
for our six officers and six chief petty officers (c. p. 
o. s.). He got the stoves, and we will be outfitted 
to-day. Captain S , officer in charge of trans- 
portation, having said that he hasn't tasted a sweet 
potato for a year, I hope that the mess of sweet 
potatoes I'm sending him may materially facilitate 
our transportation arrangements. 

''Oct. i6 — Got a permit to break out a pair of hip- 
boots, which I got for $2.10. Every one hot-footed 
into town to get similar boots for themselves. We 



212 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

broke out three oil stoves yesterday and are much 
more comfortable, using kerosene salvaged from the 
dock several days ago. In the afternoon, for two 
hours, we painted up all the trunks with names of 
officers using stencil of the U. S. Naval Base. 

''At the Base-Port, Oct. i8 — Here we are, our of- 
ficers quartered temporarily at the Hotel M . 

We had reveille yesterday at 4:45, chow at five, 
broke camp at five-thirty and began loading our 
trucks in the midst of a cold driving rain that had 
soaked us through in a couple of hours. We had 
seven truck-loads of camp equipment, which had to 
be repacked in two baggage cars — about ten tons in 
all — 180 seabags, 110 mattresses and bed rolls, 110 
cots, fifteen trunks, twenty bags, twenty boxes, our 
three galley-ranges, the paymaster's safe (which 
alone weighs 1,200 pounds) and ourselves, nine offi- 
cers and ninety- four men. We got loaded with 
about twenty minutes to spare. 

*'We occupied three third-class coaches for the 
men and one first-class for the officers, two baggage 
cars and twelve freight cars. Our trip was tire- 
somely slow : twelve hours for 180 miles. We had 
chow under difficulties from our own rations, which 
had to be passed from car window to car window, as 
the cars were old-fashioned and had no corridors. 

At Q , we telegraphed ahead for some hot coffee 

for all hands, and we in our compartment got some 
potage and an omelet. We reached here at 10:15, 
or rather were plunged out at a siding about three- 



BASE HOSPITAL 213 

quarters of a mile away. Having unloaded the 
sleeping and mess gear, and having set up a working 
substitute for a hospital, our men went to Doctor 

G 's American Hospital and we officers to the 

Hotel M . It is reputed one of the two best 

hotels in the city, but does not live up to our ideas 
of modernity: the rooms have running water (no 
baths) and good beds and clean sheets, but there 
were inconveniences not to be overlooked. I got to 
bed at twelve in my underclothes and slept like a log. 
It seemed queer to be between sheets again. 

''Oct. ig — Went early to see the buildings that we 
are thinking of turning into a part of our permanent 
hospital. The prospect not encouraging. 

"Oct. 25 — We have been here just a week, but 
have made little progress, because we can not make 
the dear old Mother Superior of the Convent agree 
to vacate, and as yet we lack the authority to put her 
out. We have told her that it is tres deplorable that 
our government should send us to take care of 
French blesses as well as our own, and yet that the 
French should refuse to give us suitable quarters. 
She says : 

" Tf you put us out, I and my children will have 
no home.' 

*'But we must get her out or we shall have no hos- 
pital ! 

''Oct. 28 — Hospital situation in statu quo, and we 
are fearful lest the delay in completely acquiring the 
convent means checkmate. Yet we go along and 



214 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

plan just the same, and have a working institution 
at the place where we settled on arrival. We yester- 
day went through the Villa Maria, a fifteen-room 
house which we thought might do for nurses' quar- 
ters — owned by a countess. Yesterday the price 
was 250 francs a month : to-day, 400 ! No gas, elec- 
tricity or baths, to install which will cost four or five 
hundred dollars. 

''During the last three days, I have been looking 
for apartments for myself and roommates — a diffi- 
cult job — scarce and on the whole poor, dirty, unsan- 
itary, and practically none has bath. 

''Oct. 2p — A full and harrowing day. I got up at 
6 A. M., because we had a message last night that our 
nurses would arrive at nine, and they had to break 
out beds, chairs, linen, etc., and install them in the 
Villa Maria. By 8:30, we had forty beds broken 
out, as well as mattresses, pillows, sheets and china, 
the house swept down and hot coffee and sand- 
wiches ready. 

"I, however, never got there, although I had 
pushed up my 'sick-call' to 7 a. m.^ and was just 
finished at 8:15 when a 'phone-call ordered me to 
send an ambulance to the dock to bring in one dead 
man, five badly wounded and three mental cases. I 
was detailed down with R to meet them. 

''When they arrived, we learned that they were 
survivors — some of them having been on the An- 
tilles when she was torpedoed a week ago and hav- 
ing then been sent homeward by the Finland, which 



BASE HOSPITAL 215 

had just met a similar fate. There was one com- 
pound fracture of the leg, some broken arms and 
ribs, an amputation of fingers, and one poor chap, 
a Spaniard, who had been injured when lowered by 
a rope, the knot in the noose of which had so pressed 
his left side as to rupture him in a frightful manner. 
He died a few hours after we got him to bed. 

*'This first ambulance load was only one of three 
that poured in during the next two hours — our bed 
capacity was already overtaxed. Never have I had 
a greater respect for a well-balanced nervous-system 
than in comparing the terror-stricken, almost gib- 
bering, group with those who could be brave in their 
suffering and even laugh at their misfortune. . . . 

*'Nov. I — There are all extremes in the Navy. 
Yesterday, we operated on a former lieutenant who 
began as a common seaman in the merchant-service. 

This morning, R took out the appendix of a 

common seaman whose people are multi-millionaires 
back home. . . . 

"Nov. 2 — I have been O. D. (officer of the day) 
and slept at the hospital ; had a wretched night with 
my bronchitis. About midnight, three of our vene- 
real patients, who had stolen liberty, came in and 
woke the whole ward with their rowing, until I in- 
terfered with hypos of a fifth of a grain of morphine 
for each, which soon had them so sick they couldn't 
move. We threw them in the 'head' until, two hours 
later, I had them carried to bed as limp as dead 
men. . . . 



216 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"Nov. y — Call came in to have our three ambu- 
lances stand by and be at the dock at 9 p. m. to meet 
survivors from the Alcedo, which was torpedoed at 
1 :45 A. M. November 5th — that they were bringing 
in forty-two out of a crew of ninety-two. The Al- 
cedo was once owned by Childs Drexel of Philadel- 
phia, and is now commanded by Lieutenant-Com- 
mander C . We got out ambulances at the 

wharf, and, taking our emergency kits, three of us 
went aboard the S. P. 20 and started out to meet 
the French destroyer that was to bring the sur- 
vivors. Very exciting going out the darkened har- 
bour as far as the submarine-net, where we lay-to 
for a half-hour. Then we w^ere signalled to return, 
and almost immediately the tiny destroyer came in 
and docked. 

**We took off the nine men in the worst shape and 
sent to an armed yacht about thirty-one who were 
able to walk and for whom we had no room. We 
gave them all a swig of w^hiskey before we left. I 
helped off one man with a terrible gash starting 
from just above and to the left of his left eye and 
extending down to his cheek. His face was caked 
with blood, and he was in bad shape. I put my over- 
coat on him and got him up to my ambulance. He 
turned out to be Frazier Harrison, whom I knew in 
Philadelphia. 

"At the hospital, we had everything in readiness, 
twelve nurses as an extra detail. Every one got mor- 
phine and atropine to ease the shock, a hot alcohol 




o 

<u 

o 



P4 




c/) 



BASE HOSPITAL 217. 

rub, hot blankets and bottles. I sewed up Harrison's 
wound and sprayed it with dichlorainet, and thus 
far he has escaped an infection. He will always 
bear a scar. Among the lot was Drexel Paul, who 
wasn't even hurt, but suffered from exposure. A 
few broken bones, sprained joints, contusions, etc., 
made up the rest of the cases. 

''It seems that at 11:45, they were bringing up 
the rear of a convoy on a moonlight night when they 
saw the wake of a torpedo about two hundred yards 
away coming directly toward them, and Paul, who 
was on duty, sounded General Quarters and swung 
the boat hard around so that she was struck on the 
port side just abaft the bridge, which probably influ- 
enced the casualty list, for had she been struck 
twenty feet farther after, it would have exploded 
her ammunition and there would have been only 
splinters left. 

"Harrison was in his bunk and was blown up on 
deck — at least, he doesn't remember getting out of 
his bunk ! — and was found unconscious and thrown 
on to a raft by a seaman named Quinn to whom he 
owes his life. They got some boats cut free, not 
launched, and after being in the water two hours, 
they had the boats sufficiently baled out to start 
*home,' — home being they knew not where. 

"This crowd of forty-two came in one whale-boat 

and two dories. Captain C set a course by the 

stars and the flash of a lighthouse below the horizon, 
and they rowed about forty miles in the open sea, 



218 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

through fortunately smooth water. About 3 p. m. 
the next day, two French aeroplanes sighted them 
and went back and notified the destroyer, which 
picked them up at 5 p. m. some fifty miles from here. 

"We received word that some additional surv'iv- 
ors were coming in by the 9 :40 train, and we had 
our ambulances waiting, but only two of them re- 
ceived hospital attention. They were an odd-looking 
lot of men in their peasants' frocks, caps and wooden 
shoes, loaned to them by French peasants at the spot 
where they landed. This leaves the casualty-list at 
25, which is remarkably low in the circumstances. 

"Nov. II — We have finally landed our real hos- 
pital — not the convent we've been using, but another 
— or, rather, a former one. It is about a mile and a 
half from the harbour and two miles from my quar- 
ters. It is a big, rambling, much cut-up building, in 
which we can get four hundred, perhaps five hun- 
dred, beds for patients. Years ago it was a Car- 
melite nunnery ; during the early part of the war, it 
was a French hospital; since then it has served 
strange purposes. 

"We made the transfer yesterday. To clean the 
three years' accumulation of dirt, fifty men and 
thirty nurses went to work with mops and pails of 
water. During the night, forty tons of equipment, 
including 300 beds and the 200 field-cots for our en- 
listed men, were put in. Early in the morning, our 
galley ranges served breakfast-chow at the old stand, 
were then broken down, carted and set up in this 



BASE HOSPITAL 219 

new place a mile away and were at work by 5 p. m. 
The whole job was accomplished in twelve hours by 
our own force alone, using two ambulances, a motor- 
truck, two horse trucks and a touring-car. We have 
now to build a few temporary and one or two per- 
manent buildings, run in gas and electricity, do 
some painting, arrange for heat, adjust sanitation 
(which, at present, is indescribable) and remodel 
certain rooms. 

''Nov. 14 — To our intense disgust, we were to-day 
ordered to transfer half our patients to our new hos- 
pital, although we are by no means ready for them. 
But it went through, and the reason became appar- 
ent — to make room for approximately one hundred 
sick to be taken off the transports that have just 
safely arrived here. 

"... I assisted R in three operations, an 

appendix and two hernias, and to-day I had sick-call 
and rounds at the old hospital, which took all a. m. 
This afternoon, I was ordered to the dock with our 
three ambulances to take off and sort out patients 
from the transports — thirty-seven cases of measles 
and one meningitis I took to the French hospital — 
which this morning had 1,269 patients; five pneu- 
monia and a dozen mumps to our own place, and the 

surgical and social cases to G 's. I must go to 

the French hospital twice a day to look after the 
well-being of our thirty-eight cases there, in addition 
to my daily sick-call at our place and O. D. duty 
once a week at G 's. 



220 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"Nov. 22 — Been sick abed for four days. Lay it 
not to novelty or degree of the work here, but to this 
beastly climate, whereof the damp vapors creep 
stealthily beneath one's skin. Then, too, by some 
miscalculation, our C. O. gets his orders to one man 
a little confused, so tliat, instead of twenty-four 
hours straight duty every third day, which isn't so 
bad, you may get elected for seventy-two hours 
straight duty, and no liberty — and that was me ! 

"The day after getting those first thirty-eight 
cases into the French hospital, I picked up four ad- 
ditional cases of measles at one of the French bar- 
racks, which had broken out during the night among 
the two hundred American darky stevedores there. 
I got them into their beds safely. Made the rounds 
of the rest and found them so homesick and down at 
the mouth ! And I don't wonder : twenty- four hours 
after reaching the French coast, they find them- 
selves in a French contagious-hospital, unable to 
speak or understand a word of the language, their 
clothes, equipment, mess-gear, and toilet-articles 
taken from them. These are to be disinfected and 
returned on their discharge, but they do not know 
that, and these and numerous other details have to 
be explained to them. Some are doubtful cases, but 
all have to suffer in a threatened epidemic like this. 

"I encouraged them to put the best face they could 
on the matter, that I would see they got a square 
deal, would make note of any legitimate complaints, 
etc. I was besieged to send cables, buy them neces- 



BASE HOSPITAL 221 

sary toilet-articles, all of which I did In my liberty 
time ; and at lunch that day, I got Chaplain Stephen- 
son and the Red Cross interested and on the job, so 
that in the afternoon we took the poor lads some 
smokes and eats and arranged for these to be dupli- 
cated every so often. 

''Friday morning, I had made two trips to the 
French hospital before ten o'clock, when I went on 
twenty- four hours' duty as O. D. at our own place, 
and then my troubles began in earnest. The usual 
day of vexing details : after 8 :30 p. m. rounds, I shut 
down the ward and gave definite orders to my corps- 
man not to disturb me except in a real necessity ; but 
he was green and over-anxious and got me out four 
times between 11 and 4 o'clock. At the last call, I 
just stayed up, determined to get my full quota of 
sleep the following night. Saturday, I made three 
trips to the French hospital, was ordered a couple 
of additional duties and was already in the big sleep 
at 10 p. M., when I was roused by a messenger from 

G , ordering me to take a S. P. boat at 7 a. m., 

and make a tour of the fleet, getting off all the con- 
tagious and the ordinary hospital cases. 

''The bonne overzealously got me up at 5:15. I 

wandered up to G 's, made quick rounds and 

then beat it down to the dock. It was still quite en- 
tirely dark, a very dense fog and damp and cold. 

We picked up the transport V , with her bow 

crushed in from having rammed the A , then the 

O — — and finally the A , In all I collected 



222 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

thirty-three cases, twenty-six of which were measles. 
On the way in, I stopped a few moments at the 

P , the mother-ship. I got thoroughly chilled 

and came in to dock with my teeth chattering. I had 
been furnished with only one ambulance and one 
touring-car, which meant three trips with each be- 
fore I had all the cases under cover. I then reported 

to C , who ordered me down to relieve as O. D., 

which I did, and the following morning I had a 
temperature of 103. 

*'One thing consoles me : Our hospital has prog- 
ressed with pretty good success, and we are able to 
do and are doing good work of a routine kind, as 
in a civil hospital at home. There is very much to 
be done and will be for many weeks to come, yet 
the essentials are completed. Our operating-room 
is in good order and quite busy. The X-Ray outfit 
is not here, except some apparatus, which we got 
from the Red Cross in Paris. The laboratory is in 
fair running order, but much of the necessary equip- 
ment failed to materialize. I am getting a pretty 
fair gastro-intestinal service, especially with the de- 
stroyer men. We are useful — and that's what we 
came over here to be." 

The unconscious hero of this log, I ought to add, 
recovered and is still continuing his excellent work. 
What he has done is what is being done by hundreds 
of our naval surgeons in France, and the story of 
the hospital that he helped to bring into being and 
to conduct is the story of a score of others. 



On a night I know, in a bay I know 

(But don't you dare inquire!) 
Hell blew up from the ocean's floor 

And set the roof afire; 

And I'd tell you where and I'd tell you when, 
But Washington says: ''No" — 

You must not learn how sailormen 
Go zvhen it's time to go. 

Yet some zvere drozvned in the liquid flame 

And burned in the flaming sea, 
And rescues done ere rise of sun 

That no one thought could be; 

For braver men than zve had then 

No history can show; 
And their names I'd sav if I had my way — 

But Mr. Creel says:' ''No." 

— The Great Forgetters. 



PART FIVE 

Admirals All 

CHAPTER XV 

FIRE ! 

IT was only shortly before the end of my nine 
months' stay in France that the horribly burned 
survivors of the American cargo-steamer, the Flor- 
ence H, which was blown up near the coast of that 
country, were pronounced by their physicians to be 
in a condition permitting them to tell their stories of 
an event that cost so many lives and that proved a 
test, splendidly met, of the American Navy's best 
traditions. A formal French, and an informal 
American, naval inquiry was straightway made, and 
I was fortunate enough to have that inquiry thrown 
open to me. Because of the hitherto mostly con- 
cealed stories of heroism there elicited by the exam- 
inations, I want to tell something of the catastrophe 
involving them. That heroism has, so far, been un- 
surpassed, even in the records of this war in which 
physical bravery is so common, and my only regret 
is that, though the names of the rescuing ships and 
of their boats' crews were mentioned by Admiral 
Wilson in his public commendation of their actions, 
and though my mention of the same names was per- 

224 



FIRE! 225 

mitted by the naval censor at our Base in France, 
Mr. George Creel's Committee on Public Informa- 
tion has asked me to suppress most of them here. 

Although only just now to be published in detail, 
the story of the Florence H, which formerly flew 
the French flag, is soon told. A merchant ship, offi- 
cered and manned by civilians, she carried an armed 
guard of twenty-two. In her four holds she had a 
cargo of several million dollars — many tons of steel 
plate and explosives, the latter packed in metal cases 
supported by wooden frames. She took on coal at 
Carney's Point, in the Delaware River, and then set 
sail for France. Off the French coast, she joined a 
convoy, which anchored close to shore, about a 
day's sail from our Naval Base, at close upon 9 :30 
of a spring evening. Witnesses agree that there 
was no powder on her hatches and that these were 
kept securely closed after leaving Philadelphia. 

There were several ships in that convoy, and a 
guard of American destroyers, American patrol- 
boats and two French craft. The sea was smooth, 
but the night dark. The Florence H was the third 
boat in the column. Four men, including the cap- 
tain, none of whom was saved, were on watch or 
lookout. At 10:45 p. m., without any preliminary 
smoke being noticed, No. 2 hatch exploded. The 
deck rose in air, the starboard side was blown out. 
In about twenty minutes, the Florence H, settling by 
the head with a list to the ripped quarter, sank in a 
mass of flames. The water receiving her was so 



226 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

shallow that her stack and two masts are visible at 
low tide. Only thirty-two of the seventy-seven men 
aboard were saved. 

From the eyes of none that saw it will the in- 
tense picture of the disaster ever be blotted, but 
perhaps the best description is that of a U. S. 
Naval officer, Captain P. L. Wilson, of the near-by 

W , commanding the guardian ships, a man 

familiar with the horrors of war at sea. Accord- 
ing to this, with no warning save a low rumble, the 
night suddenly became lurid day. Then : 

'There was ejected upward for almost three 
hundred feet from that burning ship," Captain 
Wilson says, "a mass of flaming powder-cases and 
wreckage, which spread out to leeward like several 
enormous rafts, so thick were they packed. In the 
midst of these jammed masses of wreckage, and for 
a considerable area all over the vicinity, numerous 
cases were exploding every second and shooting 
their flame and gasses twenty feet in the air. These 
explosions resembled enormous blow-torches and 
made a whistling noise. Next, the fixed ammunition 
on deck began to explode, showing up like fireworks, 
and shortly afterwards the gims went off. I could 
not believe that any living being had escaped from 
this burning furnace.'* 

Some, however, had — ^God knows how. Between 
the detonations came, out of the liquid fire, their 
shrill shrieks of agony. Here sailors already mu- 
tilated had to swim under water, and when they 



FIRE! 227 

rose for breath, it was to thrust their heads into a 
molten surface; there, in that mass of wreckage, 
they clung to heaving boxes — boxes of flame that 
now banged against one another, crushing their hu- 
man freight, and again exploded, blowing the des- 
perate men to atoms. 

A badly burned seaman named Collins told me : 
"I had been asleep in a cabin on the upper deck. I 
got my underclothes on, ran out and dove into the 
water. Whenever Fd stick my head up, I'd stick it 
into flames. I got a bit away and grabbed some 
pieces of wood, but they caught fire. Kegs were ex- 
ploding all around. The yells of the men were hor- 
rible. I found a boat and climbed in, and then it 
got afire, too. The S rescued me." 

Percy D. West, of Edgartown, Massachusetts, 
had been serving as quartermaster and was awak- 
ened from liis sleep in a cabin under the bridge, not 
by any explosion, but by the flames. 'T got into my 
trousers, and I had two sweaters on," he said to me. 
'T woke my cabin-mate. I jerked open the door, and 
a blast of fire shot in. Then a back-draft blew that 
way, and I tried to drag my mate through the door; 
but he was kind of dazed and wouldn't come. I 
jumped through the flames and overboard. The 
next thing I knew, I was floating in the water with 
a powder-cask under each arm." 

The feet of many were burned because the deck 
was aflame, and the speed of the fire was fatal. 
"By the time I got on deck," Seaman L. C. Johnson 



228 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

testified at the inquiry, "the whole aft of the ship 
was afire — gun-platforms and all." The Finnish 
boatswain, Carl Linder, was thrown from his bunk 
in darkness and staggered on deck; as he swam 
away, the stern blew up. Water-tender Peter 
Drulle, bunking with three other men, found the 
four ports and four doors of their quarters jammed; 
he smashed one of the doors, plunged through 
flames to the deck and reached the water as the ship 
sank. John B. Watson, the chief engineer, told the 
story with unconscious dramatic power : 

*'She just burned up and melted in about twenty 
minutes." 

It is almost impossible to describe the scene. The 
night's walls of blackness were pushed far aside by 
a blistering glare that was blindingly intense. 
Against that the convoy was silhouetted, afloat on a 
sea that was little more than a lake of liquid fire, 
cluttered by burning wreckage. The victims, blown 
overboard from the Florence H, would come to the 
surface and try to float by clinging to one of the 
hundreds of powder-cases bobbing all about; the 
wooden frame of the case would flash into light — 
the contents would explode and tear its victims into 
shreds. The reverberations were as loud and as con- 
stant as a bombardment. Swimmers had to take 
refuge by swimming far under water; when forced 
to rise for air, they would draw into their lungs 
great draughts of fire. 

"An* I had to swim slow," one of the crew later 




(P\ Committee on Public Information 

The Missouri 



FIRE! 229 

told me in hospital, "because I was tryin' to carry 
my buddy with me, an' he don't know how to swim 
at all." 

The guarding yachts were wooden — they dared 
not venture near. The destroyers, laden with deadly 
depth-charges, were in almost equal danger, and 
therefore Captain Wilson, believing all the crew of 
the Florence H beyond hope, signalled the destroyer 

S to be careful — she was on the edge of the 

spreading liquid fire. At that moment, her skipper, 
Captain H. S. Haislip, "heard some cries in the 
water," and there followed an action that should 
have place in every history of the American Navy. 

He ran his ship — its deck is not five feet above 
the water and was covered with high explosives — 
directly into the flames, in order to cleave, among 
the bursting powder-casks, a path for boats of res- 
cue. He led, and the other destroyers, the Wh 

and the T followed. 

The S came close up under the stern of the 

Florence H, Her paint peeled. Once she was so 
compressed amid the exploding wreckage that she 
could not maneuver. She threw out lines; her 
sailors dove overboard to hold up and rescue blinded 
survivors. Her crew lowered one of their men by 
the ankles, and he snatched a burning victim from 
the burning sea. She sent out a life-boat — Fleet 
Chaplain Father M was in it — which, since row- 
ing became immediately impossible, had to pole its 
way by shoving with the oars against those smolder- 



230 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

ing powder-cases. The motor-dory of the Wh 

with its inflammable fuel in constant danger, worked 
close by. 

One may quickly summarize the results of the 
four days' examination of survivors. I quote from 
the testimony of nine : 

"She's never had any bunker-fires." 

'There was no preceding smell of smoke." 

"There'd been no coal on fire, and there was no 
coal-gas explosion. The noise was a rumbling sound 
— felt as if it was internal." 

"The noise was a continuous roar. It made me 
think of sky-rockets, only much louder — a sort of 
trembling sound. I'd been on the radio from four 
to eight, but hadn't heard any subs talking." 

"I do not think it was a torpedo." 

"It seemed to me like inside work." 

"I've been torpedoed before. This wasn't simi- 
lar. I think it was an inside job." 

"The Luckenback people coaled her." 

"It don't seem possible when we were under way 
that a man could open those hatches." 

The commander of the convoying C said that 

three of his officers "familiar with torpedo-effects" 
did not consider this the work of a torpedo. The 

captain of the courageous S thinks the disaster 

due to either an "internal explosion or spontaneous 
combustion." The skipper of the W reports: 

"A few moments before 10 :50 p. m.,, it was noted 
that some one on the bridge of the Florence H was 
signalling with a signal searchlight. Our attention 



FIRE! 231 

was directed toward this signalling. Suddenly, 
without previous warning, the Florence H burst into 
brilliant flame.'* 

Commander Franck T. Evans, U. S. N., repre- 
sented the United States at the inquiry. He reports 
to Rear- Admiral Wilson : 

"I am of the opinion that the ship was not tor- 
pedoed. It will be noted that there is no evidence 
of any geyser of water, that there was no shock felt 
on board neighbouring vessels, and that of the two 
witnesses who were in the engine-room at the time 
of the explosion, one, who was torpedoed twice be- 
fore, states positively that the ship was not torpe- 
doed, while the testimony of the other seems to 
indicate that the ship was not torpedoed. The evi- 
dence shows that there were no steam-leads in the 
cargo-spaces, but that electric leads in iron conduit 
passed through the 'tween decks. The evidence also 
shows that there was coal stowed under the powder 
in No. 2 hold. A short-circuit of electric outlet, or 
a spontaneous combustion may have caused sufficient 
fire to cause the cargo to explode. From the investi- 
gation, I am inclined to the opinion that the vessel 
was destroyed by an infernal machine placed either 
in the coal in No. 2 hold or in the cargo there." 

Whether that opinion be right or wrong may pos- 
sibly never be known, but, no matter what the cause 
of the explosion, the heroism of the rescuers will be 
long remembered. They proved themselves the 
legitimate inheritors of our Navy's reputation for 
bravery, the defenders of its best traditions. 



So you're goin* to France, hey, to "save" herf. 
Then listen, my hearty, an' hark; 

Take advice from a gob 

That has been on the job: 
No lip to our ally, Jen Dark ! 
She's a sort of a kind of a sister 
Who's get tin' a rather rough deal. 

So she's sensitive, and 

You had best understand 
The way that the sensitives feel. 

CHORUS : 

The second-story men have been 

A-lootin' of her shop; 
They've eaten half the stock-in-hand 

An' killed the village cop; 
She's stood 'em off, an' stands 'em still; 

She's shown 'em she can give 
As good as she is gettin', but 

It makes her sensitive. 

Don't think 'cause she does a thing diff'rent 
That her ways is wrong and yourn right; 

She gets there unblown. 

Though she goes it alone — 
An' Lord, but that woman can fight! 
Keep in mind: when zve needed a helper 
(As history makes the remark), 

Why, we knelt dozvn to pray 

For the new U. S. A., 
And were made and were saved by Jen Dark, 

CHORUS : 

The second-story men, etc. 

Of course, she's a language that's phony. 
And of course she's hard up for the cash; 
But her folks have all bled 
(Why, they're most of 'em dead!) 
And they saved you, young Jackie, from smash. 



So remember: a phrase that is pleasant. 
Goes further than one that shozvs hile^^. 
If you haven't quite heard, 
Or don't knozv the French word. 
Just how to Miss Jennie an' smile. 

CHORUS : 

The second-story men, etc. 

Do yon think she's a sort of a Tomboy 
Just nowf Well, is that a disgraced 

It's a matter of pride! 

She will scrap by your side: 
Don't slap a good pal in the face! 
Then here's to our sister, the fighter; 
We'll save her, who saved us. But hark: 

Since we're in the same boat. 

We must not get her goat — 
Here's luck to Miss Genevieve Dark! 

CHORUS : 

So, when you go to rout the thieves. 

Just turn to her an' say: 
"We'd like to lend a hand, Miss, if 

You please" (that's ''civil play") 
An' when she grins and anszvers ''Oui" 

(That's **Yes"), zvhy, you remark: 
"Oh, mercy!" (which is ''Thank You") and 

"Here's to you, Jennie Dark!" 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE PLUCKIEST MAN ALIVE 

ONE day last spring an American Admiral 
shocks hands with a mere warrant-officer, a 
simple non-com., of the French Navy. 

"I'm glad to meet you," said the Admiral; "you're 
the kind of man that makes me proud to be a sailor." 

The speaker was Rear-Admiral Wilson. The per- 
son addressed was Alexis Pulu Hen, Quartermaster, 
second-class. But Pulu Hen had just performed one 
of the most wonderful feats of seamanship ever re- 
corded. 

A few lines of cabled matter told that this quar- 
termaster of a tiny submarine-chaser won the 
medaille militaire by bringing his craft across the At- 
lantic in the face of enormous difficulties — and that 
was about all. Really, he has astonished the entire 
seafaring world; he has performed the impossible. 

His boat is a cockleshell; she is a sixty-tonner. 
She was never meant to go far to sea, in the first 
place. When the need of tonnage grew acute, she 
was impressed for use as one of the several guards 
for a convoy, but she was regarded as rather risky, 
and nobody would have dreamed of her sailing 
alone. She burned oil, and could store but little of 

234 



THE PLUCKIEST MAN ALIVE 235 

that, had no other means of locomotion and, in a 
long journey, always had to be restocked by a com- 
panion-boat. She was scantily provisioned; she 
boasted just one compass and no sextant; she was 
beneath the dignity of being commanded by a com- 
missioned officer trained in navigation. 

Then, one day, she found herself alone near the 
United States side of the Atlantic — and started, not 
back, but toward France. Six weeks overdue, she 
was reported lost. 

The oil gave out, and Pulu Hen, commanding, 
burned the salad-oil. That gave out, and he built 
masts and rigged them with blankets and coverlets 
for sails. He steered by dead reckoning. He 
nightly corrected his crazy compass by the stars — 
when any were visible. He passed two or three 
ships, but, though they saw his distress-signals, they 
fled, fearing some submarine-trick. The food 
ran desperately low, but he made the crew husband 
the remainder. Storms thrashed the tiny craft: 
she weathered them. Pulu Hen — 

But here is my rough translation of his log, in 
which the facts are set down with serene unconcern 
of their revelation of heroism and skill : 

"yth January: Got underweigh from Bermuda at 

8 o'clock. Taken in tow by the P , course east 

by compass. Stationed lookouts and set the watch 
in threes. 

'^pth January: Upon pitching to a very heavy sea, 
the towline broke. The passing of a new towline is 



236 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

very delicate because of the bad state of the sea and 
the weight of the hne, which is a heavy Manila 
hawser. 

^'loth January: The breeze freshened during the 
night, and the sea became very rough. We w^ere 
pooped by many heavy seas, which carried away a 
box containing four hundred kilograms of coal and 
eight cases of gasolene. 

*^i3th January: The weather became very bad, 
with a heavy sea. The tugboat fell into the trough 
of the sea from time to time, then resumed her 
course at an irregular speed, thus towing us by 
jerks. When the tug fell off, the chaser was usually 
in the trough, rolling perilously from side to side, 
which caused a heavy chafe of the towline. At six 
o'clock, the towing-strap and painter parted and 
went with the towboat. It was very difficult to start 
the motors, because of the water that had leaked into 
the engine-room. At eight a. m., the motor amid- 
ships was started. I headed toward the P (the 

towboat), which was on the horizon. At 11:30 
A. M., I lost it from view, and the convoy had com- 
pletely disappeared. 

''13th January, later : The weather is better. At 
two p. M., I perceived a tug and a chaser dead ahead. 
I increased speed in order to overtake them, and I 

recognized the H abreast of the chaser No. 

. I asked her my bearings. She replied : 'We 

have not had them since we left Bermuda.' I took 
a position astern of the tug and abreast of the 



THE PLUCKIEST MAN ALIVE 237 

chaser, but our motor stopped frequently, making 
it difficult for me to keep my position. 

"i4fh Jamiary: At four o'clock the motors stopped 
as the result of an accident. The engineers imme- 
diately set to work to repair them. I lost sight of 
the tug and the chaser. The sea became very unruly, 
and we shipped a great many seas. I hastily had a 
makeshift sail put up with cover of the dory and the 
bridge-screens, and thus we maneuvered in order to 
be less maltreated by the heavy seas. At noon the 
engine was started, headed due east. At three 
o'clock, we again sighted the tug and chaser that 
we had hailed yesterday. We headed for them and 
fell into line beside the former. 

^'i^th January: I asked the tug to tow us and give 
us some lubricating-oil. She had no towline left, 
and she could not give us any oil. At four p. m., 
our motor stopped as a result of being overheated. 
I hoisted the signal 'Ship not under control.' The 
chaser and the tug did not answer. At five p. m., 
I lost them from sight, and did not see them again 
after that. 

*'i6th Jamiary: At midnight, the engines were 
started, headed eastward. At 3 a. m.^ another acci- 
dent. At 3 :30, I caught sight of the lights of two 
vessels on the port side. I turned on two red 
lights on the masthead and signalled to them with 
the blinker. They did not answer, and I lost them 
from view a few moments later. 

"I had the holds emptied, as the water had reached 



238 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

a depth of fifty centimeters in them, and the vessel 
was leaking badly at the seams. 

"At 11 :50 A. M., I perceived the mast of a small 
craft to the northeast. Considering my vessel in a 
critical condition on account of the accident to the 
motor and the immediate lack of lubricating-oil, I 
fired six shots with my gun and hoisted distress 
signals. I received no response, and a few minutes 
later nothing was to be seen. 

"At noon the motor was started, and we headed 
eastward. Soon after, another accident occurred. 
The engineer. Petty Officer Faignou, told me that 
the lubricating-oil had given out. He used soapy 
water and some greasy substance to replace the oil, 
but that gave bad results. I then gave him all the 
table-oil, which was used with better result, but it 
was not sufficient in quantity: I had only about 
twenty quarts. At 5 :40 p. m., the motor was started. 
At 1 1 :50 p. M.^ another and final accident to the 
motor and damages to the dynamo. Faignou told 
me that he could not make the engines nm. The 
wireless did not work. It was impossible for me to 
ask for help. There was only left a few centimeters 
of table-oil on board, which served for the lubricat- 
ing of the auxiliary motor, which I made use of 
to empty the hold when the condition of the sea 
did not permit us to use the arm-pump. 

"I was completely helpless; headlong toward the 
southeast; driven by the wind and the sea without 



THE PLUCKIEST MAN ALIVE 239 

any exact bearings. I estimated that I was at this 
moment N. 36 degrees 30 minutes, W. 39 degrees. 
''yth February: I have remained in the above-de- 
scribed condition until to-day without being helped 
in any way ; making temporary sails ; emptying the 
hold every day ; anchoring and hauling in the float- 
ing anchor when I judged it necessary to use it; 
sparing the drinking water as much as possible, ra- 
tioning the crew with what was strictly indispensa- 
ble with a view to a long voyage; putting up and 
hauling down the sails according to the condition of 
the weather and the direction of the wind, and head- 
ing east by the compass in order to try to reach 
Archipel, Azores. 

"I met four ships, three of which were very dis- 
tant and were following a route about parallel to 
mine, so that they did not come near me. I made 
distress signals to them, however, but they did not 
respond, and evidently did not see me. 

''8ih Fehrimry: At 9:30 a. m., I perceived a 
steamer four points on the port bow and heading in 
such a way as to cross our route near us. Imme- 
diately I had the distress signals hoisted and put two 
volunteers into the dory to try to intercept the route 
of the steamer and speak to her, but, when we ar- 
rived at a distance of about five miles, the steamer 
suddenly changed route and withdrew at full speed. 
I fired a volley of seven shots at intervals of one 
minute, but she did not answer and continued dis- 



240 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

appearing. At 1 1 :20, I hoisted the dory and con- 
tinued to sail toward the east, with a spanker, a 
main jib and a sort of jigger on the foremast. These 
sails permitted us to handle the ship in a sort of 
manner, and we made about three knots when the 
sea was smooth and there was a fresh breeze. 

"The sails were made of tablecloths, sheets and 
bedspreads. The weather often prevented their use, 
for they were not perfectly joined together. 

*The coal for cooking had given out on the 26th 
of January, and the fire in the galley was made of 
wood which kept the aft-compartment dry. 

*'The crew continued their marvelous conduct, 
keeping habitually calm and not complaining of the 
restrictions on food that I was forced to impose on 
them, and thus showing a spirit of sacrifice and 
abnegation. 

''i8th February: At 6 :30, I sighted land at N. 55 
degrees. Headed for it, and took soundings from 
time to time. At 11 a. m., I manned the dory with 
three volunteers, whose mission was to signal to land 
and have a tug brought out. At one p. m.^ I recog- 
nized clearly Fayal on the port side and Pico on the 
starboard. The dingy went into Port La Horta 
alongside the tug Sin Mac. The tug took the dory 
on board and came out to tow us. At 3 :25 p. m., 
she took us into tow and brought us into Port La 
Horta. 

"At 4 :35 p. M.^ my little vessel was alongside the 



THE PLUCKIEST MAN ALIVE 241 

French four-master V , the crew intact and in 

good heakh. ..." 

So it ends. Alone in winter seas, Pulu Hen's tiny, 
fragile boat had wandered for more than a month 
under desperate conditions. A little failing in fore- 
sight or seamanship, a little failing in courage, and 
she and her crew would all have been lost. Every 
one thought she was lost. Then, quite as if she did 
not think her conduct extraordinary, there she ap- 
peared, with her crazy sails of tablecloths and sheets 
and colored bedspreads, at Horta in the Azores, her 
personnel intact. 

Is it any wonder that her master should be given 
the medaille militairef Is it any wonder that, de- 
scribing that master's feat as one of the most won- 
derful in all the brave history of the sea, an Ameri- 
can Admiral should say what Admiral Wilson 
said? — 

''You are the kind of man that makes me proud to 
be a sailor!" 



There's a girl back ashore at the "Y," 

An' she's not a Society Slob, 
An' I'm all for the look in her eye — 

She's the same for a Four-Stripe or gob: 
She is straight, she's a straight that's ace-high; 

That girlie is on to her job. 

There's a skirt that can run a canteen! 

If ever a fellow gets rough. 
She'll give him one look — he goes green. 

An' he knozvs that he's gone far enough: 
She's a peach, she's a peach of a queen — 

An' she's zvise to that sentiment-stuff. 

I can't get her out of my head; 

She's as much on this ship as that scrup. 
I licked Bill Visniski, who said 

That she looked like the Wadsworths' pet pup. 
(She looks like my sister that's dead). 

What? I'm stuck on her, am I? Shut up! 
— Canteen-Memories. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 

WITHOUT question, the first wonder to im- 
press the civilian that visits the base of our 
naval effort in French waters is the good feeling 
that obtains there between the French and the Amer- 
icans. In a war where distinctive nationalities are 
allied against a common foe, there is nothing more 
important than a liaison, a common understanding, 
between the allies. It is all very well to tie two 
cats together, but if you throw the rope over a 
clothesline, the cats will not get on amicably. The 
perfect understanding our Navy has achieved: the 
French naval officers and men respect and admire 
the men and officers of our Navy, and the population 
have as great an affection for our sailors as they 
have for their own. 

That this state of things should exist in a city 
through which, during a few years, have passed 
armies French, British, Russian, Portuguese, Italian, 
negro and Cochin-Chinese, is due in part to the 
fact that, next to being a sailor and a patriot, the 
naval officer is by trade a traveler and a cosmopoli- 
tan. It is no less due, however, to the tact and 
courtesy of Admiral Wilson and his staff. In any 

243 



244 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

military organization, the attitude toward a given 
subject on the part of his commander becomes, 
within twenty- four hours, the attitude toward that 
subject to the last man in the command. 

On my arrival at the Naval Base, Admiral Wilson 
sent his aide to present me to the French Admiral : 
"It is the right thing to do," he said. A few days 
later he added: "This is a French city; Admiral 
Moreau is the French admiral here; besides, his 
rank is higher than mine: I would not think of is- 
suing an important order without first consulting 
him." 

When the men of the American flagship gave a 
vaudeville performance in the local municipal thea- 
ter, they sent invitations to their French comrades 
and reserved for Admiral Moreau the same sort of 
box that they reserved for their own Admiral. Dur- 
ing the performance, the two commanders ex- 
changed visits, and as we went out after the final 
curtain had fallen. Admiral Wilson turned to his 
aide : 

"Sellards," said he — that aide, by the way, used 
to be a professor of French in a Pacific Coast uni- 
versity and had been found enlisted as a common 
seaman — "Sellards, say to Admiral Moreau that we 
all think it was mighty fine of him to have come 
here." 

Ask any American sailor in our forces in France 
what he thinks of the French sailors; he will answer 
that they are the "real stuff." What he thinks of 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 245 

most of the French children you do not have to ask 
him : nearly every man that gets shore-leave gives a 
regular portion of his time to playing with them. In 
the various ports, respectable bourgeois housewives 
have formed associations for the entertainment of 
our men and have thrown their houses open to them : 
if you know what French family-life used to be, 
you will understand what a social revolution this in- 
dicates. Where there is a country club, officers, in 
their scant leisure, play tennis or golf with the 
French members: "And," confessed one officer to 
me, "the girls play better tennis, on the average, 
than our girls at home." 

On the anniversary of America's entrance into the 
world-war, the French naval officers gave a recep- 
tion to the American. Admiral Wilson was called 
on to speak ; he said that, since his arrival in France, 
Admiral Moreau had been a father to him — and he 
meant it. What the hosts said on their side reflected 
the same sort of family feeling — a sort that I heard 
echoed among them when I went into their sub- 
marines or aboard their brave little submarine- 
chasers : the French Navy, at the outbreak of the con- 
flict, was in poor condition, so far as material was 
concerned, in which three pacifistic administrations 
had left it; since then, with the means at hand, it has 
performed prodigies; yet it has, for our officers and 
men and for their infinitely superior equipment, no 
word of envy, no word of any kind but praise. 



246 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

Although he was a mere lad — he didn't look a 
day over seventeen — he wore the uniform of a sailor 
in the United States Navy. He had come into this 
little room, opening off the main street of the dreary 
French port, with just a bit of a swagger. 

"Des cigarettes," he said, and flung upon the 
counter a fifty- franc bill. 

'What brand do you prefer?'* asked the girl be- 
hind the counter. 

Instantly that faint hint of bravado passed from 
the boyish face, leaving it clean and manly; glad, 
too, and yet wistful. 

''Gee!" he cried. "You're an American, aren't 
you? Great guns, but it's good to hear American 
talked in this town." 

He drew out, as long as he dared, the details of 
his purchase. He went away slowly, and presently 
returned and bought some more cigarettes. He hung 
about the room, and then bought still more. He 
ostentatiously pulled out a shining cigarette-case 
from a pocket and filled it. 

The clerk couldn't help a smile. "You must 
smoke a great deal," she said. 

The sailor blushed. "It's not that," he confessed ; 
"but — well, just to hear you talk is like home !" He 
fumbled with the cigarette-case. "See that?" he 
said. "I got it to-day from my folks in Boston. 
That monogram — they're my initials. I guessed 
maybe they'd send me cigarettes, but I didn't expect 
the case. As it was, the case came alone." 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 247 

"It's very pretty," said the clerk. 

"It's the first word I've had from home for three 
months," said the boy. 

"They don't write?" 

He turned away. "I guess the mails are all balled 
up." 

"Still, you did get the case." 

"Sure ; but I'd rather had a letter than a hundred 
cigarette-cases. Of course I'm glad I enlisted; but, 
gee, if the people at home knew how bad our fellows 
wanted letters they'd write every day, even if they 
didn't have nothin' to say except * Yours truly.' If 
they only knew 1" 

That sailor was a fair example of our young sea- 
men in France; unfaltering in his determination to 
do his duty, but unremittingly homesick. The room 
in which he revealed his heart was one of many such 
rooms where daily many of our enlisted men are 
moved to similar confessions, their one healthy sub- 
stitute for home the Y. M. C. A. headquarters at a 
French port. 

In previous chapters I have tried to indicate some- 
thing of the life that these boys lead afloat. They 
are the keepers-up of commerce, the food-bringers, 
the sleepless guides and guardians of our troops 
that cross the sea. 

These results are achieved only by labor that is 
hard, dangerous — and without recorded praise. 
There are days when men have to stand on watch 
for fourteen hours without relief; whole voyages 



248 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

when the gun-crews have never moved more than 
five feet from their guns, snatching sleep on the 
rain-washed decks; cruises when the men in the 
fire-room and before the engines have never once 
been able to come up for a breath of fresh air. 

Yet, all that is borne without a whimper. The 
sailors read, now and then, a stray home paper and 
see the accounts of cheering crowds bidding god- 
speed to this or that departing regiment; they feel 
that all the public's heart is going out to the Army. 
They don't at all realize their own devotion, and 
their attitude is almost that of apology for not serv- 
ing their country more spectacularly. They will tell 
you they are glad they *'jumped to the guns," but 
every mail that arrives brings news of friends that 
stayed behind and have won commissions at the re- 
serve officers' training camps. 

And then the ship comes back to port, and there 
are liberty parties going ashore. . . . 

The British sailor is given his drink-ration; the 
British Y. M. C. A. serves light beer. It isn't thus 
with our men. At sea there obtains only the taut 
rule of fiat virtue, and the man that goes ashore is 
his own master. Do you begin to see now the prob- 
lem? 

There was a time when that problem was serious. 
Most of the sailors were hopelessly ignorant of the 
value of French money: they handed out their big- 
gest bill and took whatever change was vouchsafed 
them. In the same spirit, some of them used to face 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 249 

the life of the town: the lodgings, the shops, the 
games, the wine — and the women. Every morning 
a few girls — wreckage cast upon that shore — would 
enter the Y. M. C. A. and calmly present large 
American bills for the French equivalent. It took 
some thinking and acting on the part of the Admiral 
and his staff to remedy this condition. As to their 
cause, I heard a warrant officer discussing that with 
a man of many enlistments : 

"The seafaring man's really more religious than 
any other sort," he said; *'but nobody gives him a 
fair chance to show it. I've been in Turkey and if I 
lived there regular, I'd be a Mohammedan. I was 
disgusted with Christians before I struck this Y. M. 
C. A. joint, and I didn't call Christianity necessarily 
the best of religions, either. Drink? No, I don't 
drink — much — and neither does any other Navy 
man. It's only a few of these kids that do, and they 
don't keep it up. 

"The Navy's been increased from fifty thousand 
to more'n four hundred thousand men; what can 
people expect from a lot of boys that have never left 
their mothers before? Half of them are smoking 
their first cigarettes; of course they don't know yet 
how to use French wine. Any American sailorman 
will get homesick after a week of it, and it's just 
homesickness that's the matter with these kids; if 
they can't be cured of that disease, they'll do some- 
thing to forget it." 

To be homesick — and, if you remember your first 



250 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

boarding-school days, after your mother had kissed 
you good-by and cried a little and told you to send 
home all your socks for mending, and your father 
had shaken hands with you and cleared his throat 
and said you'd be coming back to put him out of 
business, and you'd held your head high and joked — 
if you remember that, you will agree with me that to 
be homesick is to be as miserable as it is possible for 
the human being to become. But to be homesick 
and yet to give a home to the homeless is to be 
something very nearly heroic. 

I came across three little children — boys — stand- 
ing in a doorway on a quiet street, the oldest perhaps 
twelve, the youngest not a day over five. They 
would have been remarkable among the other chil- 
dren at large of this port if only for their clean- 
liness and for the cleanliness of the elderly woman 
that was manifestly caring for them; they were the 
more remarkable because each wore a sailor's cap, 
on the band of which was inscribed the name of a 
certain American boat, and because they were all 
dressed in an infantile replica of the uniform of able 
seaman in the United States Navy. 

They were shy little boys, but the woman in 
charge of them explained their habiliments. 

**But yes, monsieur, they are all that is left of a 
family. The father was killed at Verdun, the 
mother died in an accident at a factory of muni- 
tions; so the good sailors of one of your country's 
ships have adopted them and are keeping them and 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 251 

will educate them. They have rented for them rooms, 
and I attend to those, and whenever their ship is 
in port, those sailors, they fail not to come here and 
receive word of their wards, and they give them 
chocolates until the little ones are ill." 

One Y. M. C. A. woman I met late one night on 
the street with thirty hydro-aviation men in tow. 
She was just bidding them good-by and pointing 
the way. 

*'They were lost," she laughingly explained when 
I asked how she happened to have such a following. 
They landed from America day before yesterday 
and were assigned here. I met them on the train, 
and, as they were coming here, I volunteered to 
guide them. They had their destination written 
down and asked me if I knew anything about their 
barracks. 

"The C ," I said. "Why, the C is a 

ship. You don't go to land barracks at all." 

"You should have seen their faces. Of course, 
it's a stationary ship, but I believe they thought they 
were destined to run the dangers of the Atlantic all 
over again !" 

There are Y. M. C. A. establishments in every 
French port that is used by our Navy. Evening en- 
tertainments (I remember one given by the British 
Y. M. C. A. for the American Y. M. C. A.'s patrons 
in the rooms of the French Foyer du Soldat) ; a 
reading-room full of magazines — pretty old ones, it's 
true — and a growing library ; free writing materials ; 



252 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

a piano, around which is grouped a day-long chorus 
of sailormen; moving-picture shows, a hall for 
basket ball, a baseball grounds, fifty clean beds at 
a franc apiece a night — and a clean bed is a luxury 
as well as a moral force — an apartment house for 
seventeen or so petty officers permanently employed 
ashore ; a phonograph, over which I've seen a lonely 
lad sit all afternoon running off songs reminiscent 
of his childhood; a canteen that sells chewing gum, 
cigarettes and candy — these may sound like trifles to 
Americans at home, but to the American sailor 
abroad, to whom only the Navy Canteen and the 
Y. M. C. A. provides them, they become large and 
vital. They become America. 

"They're the only two places we can get any to- 
bacco at all." 

"There's good grub on our tub, but not enough 
that's sweet. Gimme some more of those Huyler's 
gumdrops." 

"What's this? Lemonade? Yes; but what's it 
made of? Citron syrup and seltzer! And you call 
that lemonade? Oh, well, give us another glass of 
it! It probably won't poison us. When are you 
goin' to get in that soda-fountain?" 

If I heard these comments once in the canteen, 
or the naval Y. M. C. A., I heard them a dozen times. 
Unbelievable quantities of chocolate are sold in a 
form that may be easily heated and drunk during 
night watches at sea, and the millionaire that wants 





r^ffli nc;i\ir^ 



Y-workers are detailed to the various ships 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 253 

to do effective work against alcoholism should do- 
nate soda-fountains and hot chocolate machines and 
orangeade mixers to the canteens in these ports. 

One innovation recently introduced is thus far 
working well. Parties of young French women of 
the bourgeois class are formed, under maternal 
chaperonage, to meet sailors of their own sort that 
have some knowledge of the French language. It 
is at these gatherings that the sailor talks most 
freely, and most lightly, of his work. 

"Looking for subs?" I heard one say to his newly 
met companion, "I'm going blind doing it ! There 
is the sub that makes up to look like a sailing vessel, 
and the one that hides its periscope behind an imita- 
tion shark fin, and now they've got one that spouts 
water like a whale. The porpoise drive us crazy ; 
something came dashing at our boat the other day; 
its track was exactly like a torpedo's. Humphreys 
saw it first. He pointed it out to me. 
" 'We're gone this time !' " he yelled. 
"Then it jumped, and we saw it was a porpoise. 
We call porpoises 'Humphreys torpedoes' now." 
His nearest shipmate took up the tale : 

"The fellows on the had a queer experience 

the other day. They really did sight a sub. One 
of 'em was handy with his camera and got a picture 
of her before she submerged. He came ashore and 
showed it. He was so proud of being quick on the 
kodak-trigger that he didn't realize the picture was 



254 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

evidence of his ship's being just that slow with her 
guns/' 

The French girl wanted to know about rescues 
at sea. 

"Last trip," she was informed, "we picked up 
three small boats with fifty-nine men in them. We 
laid them over the boilers to thaw out. Then we fed 
them hot soup to stop their teeth from chattering, 
and lent them some dry clothes. I guess that's 
about all." 

His companion laughed. 

"Why don't you tell the rest?" 

"Oh, what's the good?" 

"Then I will. Our crew's clothes were so much 
better than the slops the rescued men owned that 
most of them forgot to change back. If you see any 
stray uniforms walking around this town, they're 
ours." 

There is a story told in one port, where Vincent 
Astor has lived, to the effect that he was complain- 
ing of the restaurant in his hotel, the most expensive 
hotel that the town could boast. 

"You can't get a really good meal there," said 
Astor. 

His auditor happened to be satisfactorily fresh 
from beef and onions and apple-pie. "I just now 
had a good dinner at the Y'. M. C. A." he ventured. 

"Oh, there," said Astor. "Of course, you did. 
The Y. M. C. A. is the best eating-place in town." 

Mr. Astor ought to know, because that eating- 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 255 

place is of his own and Mrs. Astor's making. They 
bought and turned over to the Association the one 
really good restaurant that they could find. For my 
part, I heard an endorsement of its cuisine that car- 
ried all the weight of its donor's : 

*'You can get a real meal there," a sailor told me. 
"No canned Bill or beans, but scrambled eggs and 
home-made fried potatoes and steak and onions and 
butter that doesn't always taste as if it came out of 
a tin." 

That is the appeal in the sign, too : 

NO NAVY 

Beans, Hardtack or Canned Bill 

Sold Here ! 

It is said that Mrs. Astor used to help wait on ta- 
ble when the service was shorthanded, and that one 
of the first persons upon whom she waited was a 
newly enlisted man in the United States Navy, who, 
until a month previous, had been the dining-room 
steward on Mrs. Astor's own yacht. 

**Gee," the steward is reported to have com- 
mented, "when I used to wait on her, I had to wear 
evening clothes !" 

I was standing on the bridge of a converted yacht 
in harbour. The navigation officer was with me. 

"That boy," he said, as he nodded to a blackened, 
barefoot lad emerging from a hatchway, "got hon- 
ours in French at Yale last spring." 



256 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

"And he's here as a common seaman?" I won- 
dered. 

"As a coal-heaver !'* I was corrected. 

Here is another example : 

To an orderly entertainment at a "Y" hut came 
one night a brilliantly-illuminated boatswain's mate. 
He was a splendid specimen of physical manhood, 
six feet three and as hard as nails ; but he was intent 
on "starting something." He stopped, with one bel- 
lowing command, the singer on the stage. He 
knocked down two of his protesting friends, spilled 
a crowded bench and undulated up to the secretary 
in charge, with the majesty of a breaker sweeping 
toward the beach. 

"I'm going to break up this show," he said. 

It looked very much as if he would, too. 

Now, the secretary in charge was a quiet, unas- 
suming man. He had done wonders in his work 
among our fleet in French waters, but he spoke in a 
small voice and moved gently. 

"If I were you," said the secretary, "I wouldn't 
interfere." 

"The hell you wouldn't!" said the boatswain's 
mate and shook a mighty fist. 

"Please don't," said the secretary. 

The big fist shot forward. 

It didn't hit anything. It was shunted aside, as 
a little twist of the slim switch shunts a train of 
loaded coal-cars. It dragged the boatswain's mate 
after it into vacant space, and, as the boatswain's 



THE SOUL OF THE SAILOR 257 

mate went by, something caught him — something 
uncommonly Hke an express engine — on the point of 
the jaw and sent him smashing to the floor. 

Then the quiet secretary picked the giant up in 
his arms and carried him to a back room, of which 
the two were the only occupants. 

"I hope I haven't hurt you," said the secretary. 
"I tried not to." 

The secretary was a Presbyterian minister. He 
was also a Colorado rancher. And also he had been 
the best boxer in Princeton during his day there. 
His name is O. F. Gardner. 

He nursed that boatswain's mate back to sobriety 
and got him on his ship in time to escape reprimand. 
The next night the sailor turned up again at the 
"Y" building. 

"I've come here to apologize," he said. 

"That's all right," said the secretary. 

"No, it ain't," the sailor persisted. "I made a 
damned nuisance of myself before all this crowd, 
and it's before the whole crowd that I've got to 
apologize. Here, you swipes!" he bellowed. 

Every man in the room fell silent. The boat- 
swain's mate addressed them : 

"I want to tell you fellows," he said, "that I was 
a fool last night and got what was comin' to me; 
but I'm not such a fool but what I can learn a les- 
son: I'm cuttin' out the booze. That man there 
treated me square and saved me from trouble aboard 
ship, and, after to-night, if any slob tries to get fresh 



258 OUR NAVY AT WORK 

around this place, why, any such guy's got to tackle 
the two of us." .... 

Some college men and some men that have hardly 
been to school at all, a group of millionaires and a 
scattering of roughnecks; but every one sound at 
heart and brave in action — these make up the per- 
sonnel of the U. S. fleets in French waters. The 
worst aren't bad; the worst are only lonely. The 
best are the best America produces. All are cour- 
ageously and unmurmuringly enduring a dangerous 
and, what is more, a hideously monotonous life 
afloat; those are few indeed who succumb to any 
temptation of emotional reaction ashore. 



FINIS 

Wise to what the wash is 

And the chance we take. 
Knowing that the Boche is 

Always in our wake. 
Though I'm strong on livin', 

I've got one zvord more: 
If my life I'm givin\ 

Please, no grave ashore! 

Fm no grubby tailor; 

I'm no lazvyer-shark; 
I am just a sailor: 

Let a gob embark! 
That's the way I'd sooner 

Have you launch me — do; 
I will be the schooner. 

Captain, mate an' crew. 

When it comes to dyin', 
Drop me overside. 

Where the scud is fly in', 
Where the dolphins ride; 

Let me find the furrow. 
Flowing foamy-free — 

Done my bit, an' through with it- 
Send me Home to Sea! 



H 81- 79 m 




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